The Divide
by Nyllewell
Summary: A prequel of sorts. Wars, deaths, love, a classic story of heroes and villains. J/S
1. A History Lesson

Alright! Listen up; this isn't really a chapter, but before I continue I feel I need to make things clear to avoid any future confusion.

1. This is a precursor to *our* Labyrinth; the one we all know.  
As such, somethings are similar, some are vastly different.  
2. Eventually there is a sequel to this story that resumes after *our*  
Labyrinth which will really make everything settle into place.  
3. The Sarah from this story isn't quite the Sarah from *our* Labyrinth,  
but she *will* be and more.  
3. I recently watched the Labyrinth in an effort to study Jareth's mannerisms and came to a shocking conclusion: He's actually not that *mean*! Sarcastic, haughty, arrogant, impatient, but not really mean...anyway...just saying.  
4. This world of Labyrinth that I created is complex, so I'm making a Character Page so I can keep it together, so onward.

Characters:

Jareth: Oh our beloved Goblin King. In this time and age he is High King of The Underground after his father resigns. He rules in the center of the Labyrinth in the capital city of Dorensae. Though considered a young ruler, he has already been ruling the city for at least half a century.  
He is a full blooded Immortal (to be explained later) and as such is gifted with magics.

Sarah: Pulled from her own world (which she has no memory of) and thrust into the Underground as a slave for Lord Tarrence of Torin. She escapes and is eventually put under the care of Jareth. Lots happens with her, so stick around. She is a full blooded Human (importance explained later), though only Jareth, the healer Zalick, and Tarrence are aware of this.

Didymus: A first knight of Dorensae (though never actually stated in the story) and Jareth's closest most trusted adviser and friend. He implements all of Jareth's decisions and oversees the military of Dorensae and several conflicts within the city as well. He is loyal to Jareth beyond measure.  
Didymus is also a full blooded Human.

Lord Tarrence of Torin: Tarrence is our instigator. He is one of Jareth's newest lords, and also one of the most problematic. Torin is North of Dorensae and is a land of high forest and as such supplies the Underground with lumbers, furs, and the best wood carvers study in this land.

Lady Emma of Cordel: Emma is royalty in her own right, but has married Lord Sajal of Cordel. She was raised with Jareth and Didymus and is seen more like a sister to the king; though she is in fact a more distant cousin. Emma is also a full blooded Immortal. Cordel is a coastal region and is responsible for many jewels throughout the Underground. Lord Sajal, though not mentioned often in this story, is also full blooded Immortal.

Lord Ovster of Cannan: Ovster has been around for a long time...a long, long,  
time. He was serving for centuries under Jareth's father and has not seen any reason to resign yet. Cannan is also a coastal area. A large river runs from the mountains separating Torin from Dorensae and then winds throughout Cannan before emptying into the sea. This allows Ovster to have excellent access to trade. Cannan is responsible for most shipments of fish and creates most of the ships in the Underground. Like the other lords, he is full blooded Immortal.

Lord Stivin of Fenra and Lord Brynt of Laslo: Minor characters, but lords and part of the council, so here are their names and their regions.

Now! On to more interesting things:

The Immortals: The Immortals are not the kind of Immortals that we are used to.  
They can die (and do), be wounded, and fall sick. That being said, Immortals are gifted with the ability to reincarnate themselves. It is a choice they have upon "dying". After the initial "death" months, years, or centuries can pass before they are reborn. At first their past lives are not totally known, but as they mature the past life (or lives) begin to resurface. By the age of 25 all of their past experiences are known to them. It is for this reason that many Immortals are cautious about their lives, for there is no running from their pasts. Over the ages Immortals have interbred with the humans and have such dwindled in numbers. Very few (eight at the time of this telling) are ever present at the same time.

The Humans: Humans come from the world Above, but more and more have been living Underground. There is a reason for this, why the Immortals choose to keep them, but its a secret ;)

All others: There are more creatures in the Labyrinth, especially *our* Labyrinth,  
but the reasons for these other creatures will be come clear, so will the Bog of Eternal Stench.

The End of that. I realize that this feels like a giant history lesson, but its easier for me to have you to assume these facts then spend a chapter describing everything. If at any time you have questions, please let me know and I will do my best answer them. A new chapter (a *real* chapter) should be up soon, until then; take care.


	2. The Beginning is So Small

**Ok, give this one a chance. It is before the Labyrinth, but Sarah is in the story, you'll just have to wait and find out how she'll appear ;) I'm really excited about this story, so please don't forget to comment on it! I'm on summer break so I should be able to concentrate on this one, for that matter, my other story is postponed until this story is completely out of my head. Oh yeah, I don't own Laby..blah blah blah, but certain original characters are mine. There, that should suffice.

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** It crept through the night, a sliver of silver and moonlight riding on the air currents; stealthy, quiet, and focused. No one saw it, nor sensed it as it flitted through the village, passing this door, passing that door, until it came upon a small house a ways from the others. It was perfect; a small one room cottage, no window but a wonderfully wooden door with a small crack between the floorboards and the door itself. A small breeze moved the air invitingly, and with a near unperceivable movement it snuck under the door and entered the home.

It wasn't long before it saw what it wanted; there, in the corner, on a small cot, lay a child. Children were the easiest to turn, somehow their innocence called to its very core, and it moved through the air and hovered over the babe. The child's breathing had a smooth rhythm and without a second thought the baby breathed in the very air over it; oblivious to the poison it would bring.

* * *

Mornings in the Underground were a joyous occasion. The sparkling gold rays of the sun broke over the neighboring mountains as if singing a victory over the pass. The villages were washed with the warm light, the sun's pink tendrils brightening to its purest color of gold. To many, the sun's rising was a sign of a new day, a brighter day that held all forms of promise, but not on this day.

The villagers were gathered in the center square already as the sun curved up from the east. Several women wept, but none as hard as a raven haired women standing in the center of the crowd. At her feet, a black bundle was crumpled on the ground, moving and cackling as if possessed. As the sun's rays lowered onto this bundle, the material was removed and staring back at the villagers was a monstrous sight. The creature had huge black eyes, a strange, piggish nose, tall ears, and fangs, but the villagers drew back as they discovered the skin was coarse and rough, like leather, and the creature cackled at them.

The raven haired women sobbed, "I woke up this morning to this…this…_thing_." She spat, "There was no sign of my child…" Her eyes searched for anything, anything to keep her from looking at the thing at her feet. A few voices from the crowd cried to burn the abomination, and as the crowd's voices grew in agreement, a lone figure passed through them.

It was an old woman, older than many of them, and she had wrapped a shawl over her shoulders, tugging at it as she came closer to the dark haired women and the baby. "Destroy it?" She asked and the crowd shouted in glee. "Whatever for? Has it done anything to you?" There was no answer and the woman bent down to view the creature before her, the villagers holding their breath. "Little one, can you understand me?" The creature gave a weak, but recognizable nod. "Hmm…well, little goblin, little friend, what shall we do with you?"

"Drown it if you want, but take it far away from me." The dark haired women said glaring down her nose. There was no sympathy in that tone, just the desire to be rid of an unwanted pest and the old woman stood, shaking her clothes into place.

"Kill your own child?" The woman sighed and reached toward the creature, who placed a clawed hand into her own. "Such a pity, but never fear; I have heard of this happening in other places in the Underground as well…perhaps the king shall have an answer." The villagers shouted the king's name and the woman smiled. At least the villagers had some common sense. Without a backward glance, the old woman shifted the creature into her arms and walked away, walking towards the rising sun, for all knew the king's city, in the middle of his magnificent maze, was always to the rising sun.

* * *

Jareth glared at the mound of papers on his desk with a desire to engulf them all in flames, a habit he did not wish to indulge often, but this past week's reports were testing his patience and with annoyance he pounded his fist on the desk, threw his feet up and leaned back in the over sized chair. The page waiting at the door knew that pose and clinched his teeth. It was never a good day to be servant in Jareth's castle when that expression was used and he took in a deep breath, which didn't happen to be such a bright idea for it brought the crystal gaze of the king's mismatched eyes upon him. With a sigh Jareth brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and rubbed them slowly, never taking his mismatched eyes away from the servant. After a brief second he lowered his feet and leaned his elbows on them, "Find Didymus for me; have him report here immediately."

With a curt bow and an audible "Yes, Lord," the page turned and silently left the room. Jareth smiled slightly and shook his head, his blonde-white locks loosely falling around his eyes and down his back as he grabbed at an envelope and shook the paper open. Another case of this mysterious "illness", he crumpled the paper ruthlessly and this one did catch flame, smoldering and turning to ash in his grasp. He stalked to a window and peered out into the city surrounding the castle. Most everything was as it should be, the village was peaceful, prosperous, and housing a plague, he thought bitterly as he saw the rundown housing at the very furthest reaches of the city within the walls. That was where all the "goblins" were being housed, and no matter what Jareth declared, more arrived everyday. A burden; and a mystery to him.

Jareth _felt_ the monstrous footsteps approaching his office before he actually heard them, and smiled his first real smile of the day as his door opened, allowing entrance for a large, burly man with bright, red, curly hair that was cut close to his ears. This man's black eyes sparkled with humor and his lips curved upward, barely seen through the bush of matching red hair that supported a beard. "Having a loving morning, or so the page tells me?"

"Don't jest, I'm not really in the mood," Jareth said leading Didymus to the chair across his desk. "Did you see them, the make-shift villages?"

Didymus rubbed his beard thoughtfully, "Aye, I saw 'em…you're going to have to do something about them…and soon. The city can't handle many more of these refugees."

A scoff escaped Jareth's throat, "Wonderful, eventually Dorensae will be known as the "Goblin City"." A deep sigh followed and Jareth handed Didymus a few of the reports, which the large man read quickly, a frown appearing on his brow. "They expect me to solve every problem instantly," exasperation crept into his tone, "I'm a king, not a god!" Didymus nodded but remained quiet a moment longer, examining the letters once more before setting them on the desk. Another envelope caught his beady eyes and he reached for it, looking for permission from his monarch. When Jareth gave a slight nod of approval, Didymus opened the seal and shook his head a moment after reading the unfolded letter. He wordlessly handed the paper to Jareth, allowing the king a scant moment to read before speaking.

"Tarrence and the other Lords wish a counsel…no doubt to discuss the rising "goblin" populations in their provinces." Didymus sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. "It probably would be of benefit to us to participate; seeing as your decisions are final."

"Very well," Jareth breathed, "though you know I dislike having all my lords in one place…too dangerous." He stood and walked past Didymus, placing a hand on his shoulder, "See to the details." Didymus nodded as his king, and his truest friend walked from the room.

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**Now don't forget to reply!**


	3. Tarrence, Lord of Torin

**Chapter two is a little long, but introduces Sarah, though not like we are used to her. Give it a chance, any comments are appreciated.  
**

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Tarrence took a moment to admire the waiting room he was placed in by one of the guards. It was basically like the others; though no two were alike. He had once been in one made completely of stone, while this was comprised of marble. Beautiful marble with small, black swirls made the ceiling, the floor, the four columns in every corner, and even the staircase where two guards stood stand. Even the guards seemed to blend in perfectly, their armor a near continuation of the marble décor. There was basically nothing else; just a small table and a fire pit in the middle room. With his gloved hands behind his back, the Lord of Torin, took another casual look around the room, brushing his sandy hair from his eyes as a door opened and let in a breeze. Along with the breeze came a dark haired and rather bronzed skin man, who made straight to Tarrence and gave a slight bow. Tarrence nodded back, "Is everything proceeding?"

"Yes, m'lord," the man's voice was quiet, but penetrating; his black eyes sparkling. "The cargo should arrive very soon, very soon indeed."

Smiling, Tarrence all but rubbed his hands together, but instead settled for tugging the gloves into place. He was to say another thing, when the click of heeled boots caught his attention and he turned quickly to the staircase in time to witness the marble guards draw back their spears and let the king pass by, all in a flurry of black clothes underneath a purple cloak; blond hair drifting lazily behind. Tarrence smiled and bowed, his servant repeating the gesture.

Jareth stepped closer to them. "Tarrence, why the early arrival, the meeting isn't for another few days?"

Tarrence straightened and flashed another smile, "An important shipment is being sent my way, but I did not wish for it to be of no use to me by the time it reached Torin," he spread his hands a little apart and shrugged, "so I decided I would come by here and check on the cargo en route; if it so pleases his Majesty," he added almost as a second thought.

The king's eyes narrowed, but Jareth quickly recovered and smiled, showing very pointy teeth. "Very well, you may stay in one of the guest rooms; a guard," he paused a second and re-thought; "a _servant_ will escort you." He spun around and took a few steps away before spinning around again, eyeing the lord and his servant with a critical eye, "You know the rules, Tarrence. You may stay on the ground floor and my come and go as you will, but do _not_ attempt the upper castle floors." It was not really a reminder; almost a threat and Tarrence felt the hair on his neck bristle.

"Of course, your Majesty," he said with simple humility; obviously enough, for after a moment's pause the king returned up the stairs with the same briskness he had descended. After the departure, Tarrence and his servant straightened and shared a small smile with one another before leaving the room, for a lord _always_ had something to do.

* * *

Jareth was irritated, to say the least, as he climbed the remaining steps to a landing. The damned lord was unnerving, and annoying, and Jareth fisted a hand. "Didymus!" he projected into the hall. The answer was instantaneous as the large man stepped from behind a corner and continued walking a step behind his king. "What did you know of this?"

"I knew only moments before you did, Sire." Didymus did not enjoy the current mood his liege was in and was doubly irritated that the pompous lord had managed entry to the castle _before_ he himself was notified. It seemed to him a talk with the Front Guard was in order…a talk and maybe a bashing. He was lost in his thoughts; very nearly missed the sign the king had stopped; but years of training hadn't been for nothing and Didymus refrained from stumbling over the king.

Jareth paused and took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time lords had arrived earlier than a scheduled date; he wasn't sure what was bothering him so about this. He opened a door to his left, confidant his right-arm man would follow, and entered a sort of semi balcony. It was just a small room with one door, and barely enough room for three people to stand, but all that was important was the window, for it had a magnificent view of the labyrinth. Jareth took another breath, "Am I being paranoid?" He gave Didymus a sideways glance, "I've never been one for uninvited guests."

Didymus closed the door and leaned heavily against it and shook his head. "If it were any other lord I'd tend to agree with you…but this one," he looked up to see if Jareth registered the same mistrust. "I wouldn't leave him unattended for long, Jareth. There's always something under his words; behind his eyes."

"I tend to agree." Jareth turned his sights to the labyrinth. "Keep an eye on him." Didymus recognized the dismissal; bowed and left the room. Jareth barely sensed the closing of the door; he was _reaching, sensing_, sending his magic into the labyrinth itself and listening. Something was coming, something was about to happen and the labyrinth whispered it to him, unfortunately the labyrinth deemed whatever 'it' was a secret and would only allow Jareth glimpses of images…green eyes, a red fox, a white owl…it made no sense to him at all so he closed his mind off and simply leaned over the edge to enjoy a moment's rest and the autumn sun on his face.

* * *

The crack of the whip in that of itself is unmistakable, but there is a certain sound when that whip connects to flesh; and that sound had made a clearing through the city past the walls as a dirty man yanked a chain the width of his hand. The chain was attached to shackles holding ten to twelve women in a row, all lurching forward with the pull of the chain, for their feet were also bound. It was possible one did indeed fall for the sound of the whip rang through the air a little ways down the line, followed by a whimper. The women were filthy, many were completely nude, some fortunate few wore rags that barely covered their front side; all of their rears were bare.

The journey through the labyrinth had been easy enough, for there were always passages open to Dorensae, but that road had been dusty and autumn was a dry season, so as such, each and everyone of them was covered in dust; brown, soft dust. The lead man sneezed and rubbed a dirty sleeve across his face; a smear was left in its wake. Again he gave a yank, "Come on, you filthy flea bags! I'm in charge of getting your pretty little hides cleaned up for the lord; and I know you're not going to give me any trouble, right?" He said looking the first half of the girls over. The whip sang its challenge and all lowered their heads; almost all. A single girl, about fourth in line, stood straight and did not bow her head. "What's this girl? Have you no common sense?" He pulled her arms forward and slid his foot behind her knees dropping her to the ground. It took her a moment to straighten, but she did so, glaring at the man with emerald eyes. "Huh, I guess you've got spunk, for a slave." His eyes took on a mischievous gleam, "Fortunately here, old Sors has got the remedy," the man looked to his whip carrying companion, "Don't you Sors?" The man gave a drunken nod, pulled his arm back, reached, and snapped the whip forward making contact to the girl's back and shoulders. She winced, but didn't back down, and so the whip slashed again, this time causing her to lean on her hands; breath catching in her throat. She nearly resisted again, but the lead man grabbed a handful of what was once ebony hair, now dull brown, and pulled her head up. "So, you can handle the whip, can ya?" He forcefully dropped her head and reached into his belt retrieving a club in his hand and swiftly smashed it against her stomach. This time she cried out and threw up what little contents were in her stomach. "Enough?" He asked brandishing his club as if it were a toy. He half expected her to sit back up, but to his utter disappointment she lowered her eyes. Shrugging, he pulled her back to her feet, the other girls relieved for it was a strain on _them_ when the chain was taut. "Suit yourself," he said merrily and began dragging them along, quite pleased that the fourth girl was limping and in obvious pain.

There was a pumping well to the side of the castle doors, and he had been given directions to clean the wares up, and that is what he intended to do. He attached the chain to a loop hanging from the wall, more commonly used for horses, but that made him grin. These "girls" were little better than animals anyway. When he was sure they were secured, he set Sors to the pump and he began pulling the girls under the hose, rubbing at them with scratchy linen bags. Once the girl was as thoroughly cleaned as he could manage, he shoved the same linen bag over her head and shoved her out of his way. It was methodical, he had no pleasure in them, except the one girl, he made sure he scrubbed her welted and bleeding back _very_ well before adding her to the other girls rinsed. After they were all 'clean', he led them into the castle, though a few guards and servants sent him a sharp gaze. Ah, he knew about the ban on slavery in Dorensae, all slavers did, but he had the mark of the lord on him, and that was enough for safe passage, enough for the guardsmen and that's all he was counting on.

* * *

The lord was already waiting in a large white walled room, one of the very first rooms that he could tell, for it was a short walk from the entrance to this brightly lit place. The young lord was standing smug in the middle of the room, hands behind back, dirty blond hair in place, blue eyes sparkling. He smiled as the lord himself smiled, "Ah, welcome, welcome; you must be Hesyl, yes?" The lead man, or Hesyl, smiled.

"That I am, my lord," he gave a little bow and brought the women in and lined them in a straight row. "Straight from the outlands, like you wished, sir; all slaves _before_ we took him, also like you wished…though…" at that he looked a little confused, but the lord just waved the concern away.

"It made it easier to justify my reasoning if the king should ask." Now Tarrence took a closer look at the girls. He was about to comment but it was at that moment the doors leading into the room were thrown open and a very unhappy looking king stormed in with a very unhappy looking second a few paces behind.

"I will give you a chance to explain yourself because you are a lord and a member of my counsel, but if that is not an explanation that I deem worthy you're head shall be mine." Jareth spoke vehemently; his accent thickened by his fury, small sparks of flame flaring from his green and blue eyes. Didymus looked just as furious, but held his peace.

"My liege," Tarrence dribbled as he bowed, "before you are nothing more than new servants for my castle, bought fair from their previous bonds. I would _never_ disrespect any orders from _you_." He straightened and dared a glance as Jareth fully entered the room and stepped toward the girls, and was it his imagination, or did he linger at the fourth girl a little…that sparked an idea. "If his majesty wishes, I could possibly leave one of them…"

He was cut off with an abrupt, "No." and a wave of his hand. "I do not keep slaves as servants." There was a deep breath and he allowed his mismatched eyes to fall on a girl. She was in obvious pain and Jareth snarled, "Keep them below. See them better dressed than that, and give them some real food." With that he turned and left the room, but Didymus remained.

He took a few steps closer to Tarrence and all but growled, "I would be very careful if I were you, Lord Tarrence. Only fools cross his majesty and short lived fools dare to do it twice a day." With that he spun, and though he was a large boned man, he made absolutely no sound leaving. It irked Tarrence and he spun towards the slaver.

"You heard him, take them below; make sure all his orders are obeyed. Tomorrow set out at dawn." Hesyl barely had time to nod before Tarrence turned and stomped off in the opposite direction of the king and the other strange man.

* * *

She eyed the cell that was holding her and five other girls with the wide-eyed expression of a doe caught with an arrow. It was maddening, she had never been so…so…confined before and it seemed the room was shrinking, the walls were closing in on her…she closed her eyes tight trying to block the sight and the feeling. She jumped when a pair of hands softly touched her back.

"I'm sorry…" the girl said softly, "what be your name, girl?"

She looked up with her dark green eyes, "Sarah," she replied in the tongue that was becoming quite familiar to her, though it was not her own.

"Sarah, how is it you came to be here?" the slave girl widened her arms. "All of us, we all been serving for something, some crime or another, but you…nones of us have ever seen the likes of you, standing up to the slaver and all." There was a slight drawl to the accent and Sarah had to concentrate to understand, but she felt a sense of awe from these girls, like she had dared something they had only ever dreamed.

"I am _not_ a slave," she said sternly and looked once more about the cell. The door leading out was a simple wooden one with three bars barely an arms width apart for the peak. "And I am not staying here." She stood fluidly, if albeit painfully and crept to the door, weeks of malnutrition leaving her pale arms skinny enough to slide through the bars. She craned her neck and managed to pull the lever to the lock and laid back on her heels in satisfaction. Now all she had to do was open the door. She went to reach for the knob and her stomach dropped as she realized there _was_ no knob on her side of the door.

The slaver girl stepped beside her. "Don't try nuthin', it's dangerous for a slave to be caught tryin' to escape."

"I'm not a slave," Sarah replied through clinched teeth. She pushed her head up to the peak and rolled her eyes around until she saw the knob…it wasn't particularly far…but it _was_ at a difficult angle. She slid her arm through once more, but her finger tips barely brushed the knob. She bit her lip; to actually turn the knob she'd have to force her arm in an unbendable way; in other words, she'd have to dislocate her shoulder. Looking around briefly, she found a discarded piece of wood, gathered it to her quickly and jabbed it into her mouth, ignoring the confused expressions from the other girls. She backed up and motioned for the others girls to give her a clearing and then ran straight towards a stone wall at a break-neck pace. Right before hitting the wall, she angled herself so only her left shoulder made contact. She writhed sideways and heard a faint "popping" sound next to her ear a split second before the pain washed over her. She might have screamed, but the wood in her mouth prevented anything other than a moan.

"You fool!" One of the slaves cried and they all backed away from her as if she were spreading a plague.

Sarah ignored them and pulled the moist wood from her mouth, cradling her left arm against her. She flexed her hand, and though it hurt immensely to do so, it worked. Stumbling over to the door she once again pushed her arm through, the dislocation allowing her enough length to grab the knob and twist with all her strength. The heavy door budged a little and she pushed it the rest of the way open, retrieving her arm in the process, a triumphant smile playing across her lips. Sarah didn't wait for an invitation, she held her arm tight to her and ran.

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**So, what did you think? Please tell me!**


	4. Zalick the Healer

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**Alrighty, a couple things here. This story takes place like hundreds of years before the movie. I didn't make that really clear, sorry about that. Please forgive me! Second, this chapter took so long because I went to Las Vegas (had a blast by the way). Lastly, this chapter is dedicated to my exboyfriend, for without a little heartacke there would never be any inspiration.

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** Jareth was exhausted, needless to say, after the day's end. On the fourth floor of his expansive castle he sat relaxed in a warmly lit sitting room; his favorite for it sported his most cherished books, a large sofa, and a fireplace. It wasn't often he found time to relax there, but the whole "goblin problem" had, in its own way, cleared his schedule. So many of the villages around the labyrinth and even in the neighboring provinces were caught up with the growing goblin population, nothing else seemed much to matter. And with a dull smile he realized that was the _only_ reason he was lounging in private with an old history text on his lap. For at least a half hour he had been dozing and not really reading anything, so he had put the book down and merely enjoyed the fire's shadow dance upon the walls. He must have slipped off into slumber though, for a sudden noise caught his attention and he jerked his head up surveying the room. Though the room itself had no windows, an old mantle clock ticked slowly and surely above the fireplace. It was nearly one o' clock and quiet now; his neck hairs bristled. One did not just _snap_ out of a sleep and he narrowed his eyes and extended his _essence_, the energy that allowed him to use and detect magic, out of the room and did a sweep. There was nothing particularly there…and yet, he reached a little further…there! It was below him, on the third floor, an energy that was unlike any he had sensed; except from one of the slave girls...his heart skipped a beat as an overwhelming emotion of pain and fear washed over him. He pulled back his _essence_ before it could completely consume him and shook his head. What in the Underground was going on?

Though not prone to excessive usages of magic, Jareth transported himself directly to the floor beneath him without a second thought, and the sight at first confused him, and then outraged him. Towering over a lump of shivering cloth (presumably the girl) was a guard pounding a club down against it relentlessly. With an outstretched palm, Jareth lifted his hand up, and with the motion the guard was levitated as well; a look of genuine bafflement crossing his face. The guard took a look around and upon sighting a very furious looking king, dropped his weapon and swallowed hard.

Jareth took a step forward, his face a skilled mask betraying the fire that burned in his eyes. It was one thing he could never quite control, for when he was mad, his eyes glowed. "What are you doing?" He finally mastered to say, each word dripping with ice.

The guard, still suspended in air, tried to bow, "This slave was found escaping the dungeons," at the flare in Jareth's eyes the guard held his tongue.

"There are no slaves in Dorensae," Jareth spat at the guard, who in his own right looked as if he would pass out any second. Very few of the guard had direct dealings with Jareth, it was usually Didymus they made their reports and for that they were all too grateful, for when angered, Jareth was a force to be reckoned with. "What was your reasoning for beating her?" Jareth asked, suddenly more curious than mad.

The guard held his breath for a moment, coming to the conclusion that no matter what he answered the king would be angered, but with courageous resignation he responded, "I gave her an order to stop and she would not obey." He took a risk and continued speaking before Jareth could get in a word, "It was not an excessive step, your Majesty, the guard have frequently beaten intruders before; especially those who were lucky enough to enter the upper floors."

Jareth knew that to be true and slowly some of the fire in his eyes dimmed, some, but not all, for although he could not understand it, the harsh treatment of the poor soul before him concerned him. He gave the guard one last look and then bent down to the girl. He was not a healer, but could sense several "wrongs" with her body. "Can you stand, girl?" His only reply was a painful moan; which he took as a negative sign. Carefully, he tucked his hands under her legs and arms, wrapping the girl in just enough magic to make her weightless, though he might as well have not bothered, for she was featherweight at the most. Oddly enough she pressed her hair covered face against his chest. With a deep sigh Jareth turned from the hall and once again transported; this time to the ground floor. Never once did he look back at the hovering guard.

* * *

Ages ago, or so it seemed, Jareth had seen fit to employ a healer for the entire city, for in his eyes Dorensae, and the other villages around the labyrinth didn't pay levies for nothing, and so, he had hired an old healer and housed him in the castle. All who needed his services were welcome and the healer, Zalick, relished the security and honor of such a position. It was in the main chamber that Jareth took them, for Zalick's popularity had grown and he now demanded four seeing rooms whereas one before was sufficient. It wasn't exactly crowded, but there were shelves lining each wall from top to bottom and each shelf supported rows of exotic and strange bottles, some holding liquids, some plants, and in one disturbing case an eyeball. _That_ Jareth overlooked and instead placed the girl on a cot in the middle of the room. If he knew Zalick at all, the old, bent man would be hobbling into the room in just a few seconds. It was one thing that Jareth admired, no matter how busy the healer was (which was doubtful at this time of night); he was never too busy to notice the outside world.

Jareth had just leaned against a desk when the door opened and in came the healer: silver, scraggly hair falling over his spectacled face with each limp. He was hunched over, and no matter what he tried, Zalick was unable to cure it, though somehow it made him more approachable. Zalick pulled at his glasses and made his way to Jareth, eyeing the bundle on the cot. "What have you brought me, hmmm? It must be of some importance if the king himself delivered it." Without a response, Zalick leaned over the girl and hissed in pain. His voice grew soft, "Jareth, without even using the healing magics I can sense much pain in her. It practically radiates from her body! What happened?"

Shaking his head Jareth could only offer, "She was beaten by a guard…there's something about her, Zalick, it confuses my senses, but something…" he paused searching for the word, but Zalick gave a small chuckle.

"That there is, Sire, that there is." He sighed and pushed up his sleeves. "This is going to take a while, I fear." He placed his hands over the girl and concentrated, bringing a small glow to his hands. "Already I can sense broken ribs…a dislocated shoulder…a broken cheekbone…and even some internal damages." He broke the trance. "Leave us, in about an hour's time I shall know more, and then I shall tell you what is so "different" about this one, hmm?" Without waiting for another word, the healer returned to the girl before him. Jareth smiled softly and took a small bow before exiting the room the old fashioned way, through the door.

It wasn't any great surprise to see Didymus casually leaning against a wall when he came out of the healer's room. It _was_ surprising though to see him in his casuals; long, loose breeches of sandy brown and a white flowing shirt topped with a soft leather vest. All in all, they matched, though Jareth had forgone the vest that Didymus wore over the shirt. He approached Didymus, who smiled, a twinkle in his eye.

"So, I was saying to myself, 'The night is still young, my friend Jareth may want a drink before bed,'" at this he proffered a steaming mug, which Jareth accepted with a flourish, "but upon reaching said friend's favorite hiding place I found only emptiness." He took a pause and a sip from his own steaming mug. "Ah, warm ale." He smiled again, drank and then licked his lips. "So, tell me, why is there a guard floating in one of the third halls?"

Jareth nearly laughed, for now that he thought about it, it was an absurd way to leave a man. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then nodded in satisfaction. "Well, that takes care of that." He said smugly and began walking away, down a hall. He let the mug touch his lips before swallowing the ale and enjoyed the sensation of warm liquid sliding down his throat. "He beat the girl." He said spontaneously as he showed them into a sitting room, one of the more lavish ones with pillows and couches and soft, plush carpet.

Didymus found a lounging chair, "What girl?"

"The one from earlier, she came in with the slaves."

Didymus was quiet for a long moment before clearing his throat. "A slave girl? Was she trying to escape?" Jareth nodded and Didymus found his eyes narrowing. "Then…what's the issue?"

Shaking his head, blond hair swishing softly, Jareth took a deep breath. "You know, I don't know." He found a nice, deep cushioned chair and dropped into it. A small spark lit his eyes and Didymus cringed. A spark like that was always followed by trouble. "Where are the other slaves?" Jareth asked suddenly and Didymus' stomach dropped.

"They're still in the dungeons as far as I know." He replied, pretending to pay careful attention to his mug and _not_ to the king. He was surprised, to say the least at the next words.

"Release them." Jareth commanded clearly.

Didymus sat up straight. "Have you gone mad? Those are Tarrence's slaves," he rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry, _servants_. He will be livid if we release them."

Jareth nodded, "Yes, I know. That's the idea."

"Are you sure this is wise?" Didymus swallowed, it was difficult to question Jareth's resolve, even after all the years they had been together.

That spark still remained in Jareth's eyes and he smiled broadly. "Oh yes, I'm sure. Give them a room on the third floor. Hold them there until the slaver leaves in the morning…" Jareth smiled again, and once again Didymus found himself cringing. "On second thought, in the morning, when the slaver comes to claim the girls, arrest him and throw him into on the dungeons himself."

Didymus, though he tried, couldn't stop his mouth from dropping open. "You can't be serious…"

"Why not?" Jareth replied taking a good gulp of ale. "He is a slaver, slavery is illegal here. The penalty for slave trafficking is two weeks hard labor." At Didymus' wide eyed expression Jareth laughed. "Oh, I'm not going to _keep _him there that long. Just long enough to aggravate Tarrence. That little ingrate rubbed me the wrong way." Didymus shook his head and Jareth glowered. "Are you _defying_ me?" He asked dangerously.

"No…no…I'll do it, Jareth. You know I will…it's just…all this for a girl?" The last words almost squeaked out.

With a wave Jareth dismissed the idea. "Not the girl, Didymus. It's principal. I am the king, and I will have my laws obeyed. I don't know why I didn't act before."

"You couldn't risk insulting Tarrence…I still don't think you can." Didymus supplied.

A smile replaced Jareth's frown. "Be that as it may; go, you have much to do before morning, and I believe Zalick will be here shortly." Didymus placed the cup down and stood, giving a small bow before exiting the room. Jareth could tell he wasn't overly pleased, but that wasn't the point. Jareth had prerogative over Didymus' discomfort and right now he wanted nothing more than to irritate the pompous Lord Tarrence. It was small compensation, but it made him smile nonetheless while he waited in the softly lit room for the healer to return.

* * *

Zalick called upon the energy within him and concentrated on the girl. After first placing a mild sleep over her, he removed the torn rags that passed for clothing. The damage was much worse than he first thought. Her breathing was ragged and he had pulled back her long hair, wincing at the swollen, bruised face. Even with purpling skin she was beautiful and Zalick shook his head. He did another overview of her injuries, but a deeper probe than before. In his mind's eye he saw all the injuries, and just as quickly he categorized them by importance. There was some internal bleeding in the abdomen that needed tending first, for it was profuse; an early injury by the looks of it.

He placed his hands on her stomach, took a deep breath, and pushed his energies into her body. Carefully, very carefully, he _convinced_ the bleeding to stop; to stop and to repair. The body would do so on its own, but Zalick supplied a little more incentive, and energy. This sped the healing up remarkably and once he was satisfied the bleeding was controlled sufficiently he moved to the girl's chest. One of her ribs had punctured a lung; nastily at that. With a finger, he touched the rib and pushed it back into place, the magic aiding and guiding the bone back into its rightful position. Once the rib was out of his way, he turned his attention to the lung. Lungs were tricky to heal, like delicate tissue they were easily ripped and difficult to mend. He spent a good half hour weaving the lung back into working order before he allowed her body to continue the healing.

With a sigh, Zalick stepped back. That left the shoulder, the cheek, and a few oozing slashes on her back. He scrunched his nose in disgust. Under different circumstances he would leave the back for later, but already he could tell the wounds were infected and he could not risk leaving them unattended for it could possibly turn feverish and spread the infection to the blood. With another sigh Zalick rearranged his glasses and brought his hands to the girl's shoulder. Usually two people were used in returning sockets to their proper place, but Zalick was short handed at one in the morning, so he substituted with magic. He wrapped the shoulder in a web of magic, stood behind the girl and gave a small tug on her arm. The magic did the rest, guiding the shoulder back into socket and immediately began to heal the strained muscles and tendons.

Zalick then turned to her broken cheek. That was the easiest to mend, and with a small wiggle of his fingers, the yellow glow danced upon her face, putting the pieces back together. With the same movement, the bruises dissipated and Zalick found himself intrigued. The girl was stunningly gorgeous. He gave a small "hmmpf" at that and gave a check over the treated body areas. Everything was healing properly…now, only the back remained. He grabbed a clean towel from beneath the bed and draped it over his shoulder. Turning her was going to be problematic, but he did so regardless, carefully though to avoid hurting the healing he had already started.

The gashes on her back were as bad as his senses led him to believe. They oozed with puss and with blood, fresh blood and caked on blood. Shaking his head at the senseless of it, Zalick stumbled over to a water pump and poured some into a large bowl, heating it magically to save time. Though by all accounts he was a skilled healer with an enormous amount of energy dedicated to his art, the healing of this girl was draining on him and he found his limp worsen as he took the few steps back to the table. He was nearly exhausted, but he was stubborn and determined to finish the job. He dipped the towel in the water and began to rinse the cuts. Fatigue must have overcome at one point, for within a few moments all the wounds on the back were cleaned and bandaged, though he had no idea how. It must have been automatic. He shook his head and took a step back, his bad leg protesting against the movement. The girl was sleeping soundly, he was sure of it now. Again he went under the bed and removed a soft blanket that he placed over her. All that was left was to wait and see how she recovered. And to inform Jareth, a nagging little voice said in his head. Zalick nearly groaned, but turned from the room and slowly limped down the hall, not humored by the fact that Zalick, the Great Healer, could save that girl but was powerless to stop his own suffering.

* * *

**Well? Whatdya think? The end was a little rushed, I was getting tired. Next chapter she gets to wake up, promies ;)  
**


	5. Foreign to Say the Least

Zalick met with Jareth in a small sitting room full of large overstuffed chairs. The light was dim and the king was leaning against a wall staring into space. Zalick chuckled slightly, for that pose always meant Jareth was preoccupied, but such is the life of a king. At the small sound, Jareth came from his reverie and moved away from the wall, motioning for Zalick to sit. Though exhausted, Zalick stifled a yawn and accepted a glass of wine his liege proffered. Jareth waited and watched in silence until the healer would reveal. It didn't take long before Zalick sat the wine down and took a deep breath.

"Well, the girl is stable now, if not altogether healed." He frowned and rubbed his eyes. "She'll be fine in a while, physically at least." He shrugged his shoulders, "I know you really want to know what makes her so unique, but Jareth…" he paused and took a deep sigh, "Perhaps this is not the time or the place to reveal it." Zalick looked up to see Jareth's reaction, half expecting to see the flames in his eyes. There was nothing there though, just a sort of acceptance. He gave a curt nod, "I didn't really expect you to tell me, and if I'm meant to know I will." A pained expression flitted over his face and then was gone. He looked down to the healer, blue and green eyes filled with sadness, "Something is happening here. I'm not sure what it is, but I do not think she is here on accident. We all have a purpose."

Zalick stood and put a wrinkled hand on Jareth's shoulder, "Perhaps you should get some rest, your Majesty."

Jareth laughed softly. "I probably should, though I doubt it will come this night."

Nodding, Zalick began to limp away, and as an after thought replied, "Try at least."

Jareth only nodded and turned away from the retreating healer and resumed his place on the wall.

* * *

Sarah fought to regain consciousness; fought hard and eventually succeeded. She held her breath, expecting the overwhelming pain of her last memories to wash over her, but it never came. Sighing, she slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times; trying to adjust to the near blackness. Fear crept into her. What if she was in another dungeon? What if they had put her someplace dark to forget about her? A small noise squeaked from her mouth and she swallowed the scream that wanted to follow. She would not panic; she could not panic, not if she wanted to survive in this world. A tear dropped from her eye and she rubbed a hand on her cheek and sat up with less trouble than she expected. Her eyes were able to see the different shapes in the room now, and to try out her sight she moved her hand before her face, nodding as she saw the movement. Carefully, she slid her feet to the floor; goose bumps covering her entire body at the cold touch. Standing there, she did a few tests of her mobility and was surprised and relieved when nothing was sore when she moved. She couldn't exactly explain why, but she was beyond caring. All she wanted to do was find an exit; find an exit and run.

Jareth had sensed her waking, but thought it better to leave her than to approach the girl. Although he wished nothing more than to speak to her; to satisfy his curiosity about her, he wanted to give her privacy. It was an odd sort of sensation for a king and he paused a moment to ponder it. Very rarely did he put the feelings of others before his own wants, and if he did it was usually for a close friend. Two meetings he had with this girl, both times barely seeing her face, or hearing her speak, and yet he was drawn to her. It bothered him immensely. It also bothered him that during his inner ramblings he had walked straight to the room he had been trying to avoid. He stared at the door handle a moment and debated; he even reached for the knob once and then quickly drew his hand away, as if burned from a flame. He felt a growl growing in his throat and he pushed it down. Being angry wouldn't solve anything. He either needed to enter or leave; those were his two choices to make. Neither choice did he chose though; he just stood like a statue for a few moments. Finally deciding that he was being ridiculous, he began to turn away.

The door opened though, throwing him off guard. He was then thrown off balance as a solid form ran into him, knocking them both to the ground. He tried using his hands to regain control, but he felt limbs kicking and hitting at him; desperate to detangle. Jareth somehow managed to get to his knees and moved his head to the side as a white knee swung close to his ear. In two swift movements he saw and caught hold of flashing white wrists and held them tight. The body continued to struggle and Jareth found himself straddling a female body; her green eyes flashing in fear as he held her nude form to the floor. Instantly she stopped fighting, tears flowing down her cheeks, her breath coming in short rasps. She said something rapidly, but Jareth could not catch her words.

He took a deep breath, "Are you alright?" The girl looked up at him, her mouth dropping a little. "If I let you go, will you remain calm?" Again the girl just stared at him. "You do understand me, don't you?" This time the girl nodded, her black hair falling into her face. Jareth released her hands and she instantly clasped them over her bare chest; red coloring her face. He stood and reached down to her. "You shouldn't be out of bed yet, you were hurt badly. Do you remember?" She nodded and curled into a ball on her side in an attempt to shield her body from his sight.

With a sigh, Jareth stepped into the doctor's room and brought out a small blanket, draping it over her form and then forcing her to stand; though she did not fight once she was covered. He led her back into the room and back to the cot from where she had awoken. "Come here, lay back down." She shook her head vehemently and took a step away. Jareth nearly snarled, but his frustration was not directed at her. She was like a small, wounded, animal; beaten and confused and terrified to trust. "What is your name?" The girl made no attempt to answer. "When a king asks your name, you give it; now what is your name?" Though he sounded harsher than he intended, he heard a small breathy "Sarah" from the girl's lips. "Sarah, no one will hurt you now, and you are safe here, but you are not completely healed. Come; sleep, tomorrow we will speak with the healer." With each word he wove a small sleep spell woven into his voice. It called to her, beckoned to her; all she wanted to do was follow that soothing voice into slumber. She barely felt the cot underneath her as her eyes closed; dancing in the embrace of his words.

Jareth watched a few minutes more as the spell he cast took full effect. It was a cheap trick, he admitted that, but the girl…no, Sarah, was not fully well, and he highly doubted his words comforted her enough for her to stay willingly. He frowned and left the room; quietly but securely shutting the door behind him. There was still something about her, something he should know. She was different, there was a different air about her, and though he couldn't pinpoint it the fact remained it was there. At least the healer knew the secret. He would just have to wait and be patient, not two of Jareth's better traits, but he could wait.

* * *

The sun had yet to rise over Dorensae, and already Tarrence was awaked by a stealthy presence is his chambers. Yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slowly sat up in the bed. He blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness and made out a still form in a corner. He made a gesture to come closer, and the bronze skinned man slid across the floor, like he was one with darkness, one with the shadows.

"We've a problem," he said quietly.

"Something that couldn't wait until morning, Baz?" Tarrence asked irritably.

The man shook his head. "The slaves have all been moved during the night." At this statement Tarrence sat straight up and Baz continued. "The slaver was being held in the dungeons instead."

Tarrence growled and his fist clinched the sheets. "And the girl?" he said through tightly closed teeth.

Baz held his head low, "She is under his protection, m'lord."

Tarrence jumped from the bed and pounded a fist on his leg. Baz took a step back at the display of anger, but waited for his commands. Tarrence began to pace. "This is not what I planned. I will have to think carefully on how to proceed." He stopped a moment and glanced back at his right arm man, "you don't think he knows, do you?"

"No sire," Baz replied instantly, "Not about the girl or you."

Nodding, Tarrence resumed his pacing, "That will have to be enough for now. Leave me to think." Baz made no noise as he left, but Tarrence felt he was alone again, and he began to pace once more. Yes, he had some serious thinking to do.

* * *

Early rays of daylight broke over the horizon and cascaded down upon Jareth as he strolled in a small, secluded corner of the Labyrinth. The high stone walls kept the place cool and dry and sheltered from the wind. Hanging over some of the ledges were large willow trees barely moving from the breeze. There were birds chirping and squirrels chasing each other and all other natural morning sounds that Jareth enjoyed. He was just casually walking, occasionally brushing his hands against some of the plants. It was peaceful and Jareth took a deep breath of the morning air, for he knew his peaceful solitude was at an end. Belittling his size, Didymus appeared around a bend in complete silence. He bowed and then stood eyebrows furrowed. "You're going to have to talk to Tarrence this morning. Already he is awake and demanding to see you."

"That's impetuous of him, don't you think?" Jareth replied coldly without pausing his walk.

With a deep sigh Didymus shook his head, "I don't know, Jareth. Perhaps we can offer him compensation."

Jareth stopped suddenly and spun towards Didymus eyes flashing red, "No. He knew the laws and tested them and failed. Do what you will Didymus, but he will _not _demand an explanation from _me_." With that, Jareth turned away and vanished.

Didymus shook his head and sighed. He frowned as he heard trumpets heralding an important arrival from the city and quickly went to investigate.

The front gates, glittery in gold, opened wide as a procession of banner waving men and white coated horses pulling a lace covered coach came through the city. The people of Dorensae gathered at the road sides cheering and trying to see who the guest was, but it was not a mystery to Didymus who stood at the front doors to the palace. There were two banners: one blue and white with a star and a crown, which was Lord Ovster's banner and the other purple and green with a silver castle, Lord Sajal's banner. Didymus ground his teeth. If all the lords were going to show unannounced a week before a scheduled meeting, why bother setting appointments. But he did not say such a thing as the announcer jumped from the back of the coach and took his place three steps up from the bottom of the flight of stairs leading to the front palace doors.

The small man took a deep breath and projected his voice, "It is my great honor to introduce Lord Ovster of Cannan and the Lady Emma of Cordel, who represents her husband, Lord Sajal of Cordel in the prosperous city of Dorensae under our wonderful ruler, King Jareth of Dorensae." The crowd cheered and two footmen opened either side of the coach. On one side, an old man with a large bald spot emerged, covered in lavish robes and jewelry.

Didymus approached him and gave a small bow, "My lord, what an honor to have you."

Though old, Ovster was no fool and he flashed a smile that made Didymus' skin crawl. "Yes, I'm sure you're overly enthused by our presence." He said as he began to walk up the steps.

"Of course my lord," replied Didymus quickly, "it is _always_ a pleasure to see one of _my_ lord's servants." Didymus kept his face steeling calm as Ovster paused and stared at him for a moment before turning and resuming the walk up the flight of stairs. "Another servant will show you your room, my lord," Didymus finished, and then rounded to the other side of the coach where Lady Emma stood gracefully. Her long, blonde hair fell to her waist and she pushed out the wrinkles in her soft blue gown. As Didymus approached her she extended her hand, which he took and kissed the back of softly. "My lady," he said with a smile.

"Insufferable, isn't he?" She said with a gleam in her blue eyes. "I despised the whole journey here listening to his squabbles." Didymus offered her an arm and she accepted and allowed him to escort her up the stairs. "Oh, I do love it here, Didymus. Where shall I be staying this time?"

"I'm not sure, my Lady. Your arrival is a bit early, but I'm sure the servants will have adequate accommodations."

Emma laughed, "As long as they are far away from Ovster."

Didymus returned the laugh, "I'm sure that can be arranged."

* * *

Sarah woke with trumpets blaring. It nearly scared her out of her skin and she jumped to her feet in a start. She was still wrapped in a blanket and slowly the night's events returned to her. The king…he had said he was a king. There was noise coming from a window and she slowly walked to it, pulling back the drapes to see the full expanse of the city below. She was on a lower floor to a monstrous castle, she could tell, but she was still above the city. At the gates, beautiful horses were halted and a beautiful woman was laughing with a large man with curly red hair that Sarah faintly remembered seeing before. It was an exciting site, for she could the importance of these people, and for the first time in a long while felt like a guest instead of a prisoner. She did not know if it was a false belief, but it allowed her to take a deep breath and enjoy the sight.

Zalick had managed to enter the room without the girl noticing and smiled, "That'll be the Lady Emma," he said softly. Sarah spun around, fright in her eyes, but Zalick only smiled. "It's alright. I'll not hurt you. My name is Zalick," he said sitting on a tall stool. "What is your name?"

"Sarah." She answered timidly, but there was no waver in her voice and she did not try to flee.

"Good, good," he replied with a smile. "How are you feeling today, young Sarah? I had the responsibility of healing you last night, and wish to know how I fared." His eyes were friendly and Sarah took a step towards him tightly holding the blanket around her body.

"Very well, thank you." She said.

Zalick watched her a moment. "Well, I suppose our king will want to see you, after we get you cleaned up of course."

A deep blush came to her cheeks, and because of her paleness, it was more profound. "I think I've met him already…last night."

"Well, not matter," he said standing stiffly. "Let's get you some clothes and a bath, if you feel up to it?" She bit her bottom lip and Zalick frowned, "What, Sarah?" He asked with concern.

"Am…am I a…prisoner, here?" She barely spoke the word and Zalick's eyes widened.

"No, no dear Sarah." He frowned again, "I'm not sure what you are here, and I will tell you that it is in your best interest to stay here in the castle, but I do not believe you are a prisoner." She nodded and allowed him to escort her from the room, secure, yet unsure of herself in this new surroundings.

* * *

**Well, sorry it took so long, writer's block and all that. Anyway, hope you enjoy it.  
**


	6. A Talk and A Meal

A bath did much to improve Sarah s skittish behavior. Although everyone she came across eyed her cautiously, no one threatened her. It could have been the healer's protection, but as he showed her to a bathing chamber he had bowed and said softly, "The maids will tend to you, Sarah, and show you a room afterward." She was going to protest but he hushed her saying, "I have other patients to tend to." He had given her a pat on the hand and finished with, "You'll be fine."

And fine she was. After the bath she was indeed shown to a room that was overwhelmingly beautiful. The drapes, the shag rug, and the overstuffed comforter were all of a rich mauve. The bed frame, desk and chair were of red oak. It was spectacular, and she was afraid to touch anything, but smiled as she ran her fingers over the softness of the bed. Tired she was not, however; and soon found herself gazing out the window. The view was shocking. In all directions a vast maze of twists and turns surrounded the castle. With a grimace she seemed to remember walking through some of those paths, but it didn't seem such a mess from the ground. The memory disturbed her. Being chained and herded like an animal was something she never wished to experience again, but more disturbing was how she came to be there. For the first time she was able to ponder her situation.

The world she currently found herself in was not the one she was originally from, that she was sure. One night she woke and found herself at the base of a large cliff, darkness all around. She knew her name, but nothing before that moment came easy to her. At times at night she would think she remembered something, but those dreams soon faded away. It was confusing and frustrating.

Sarah took a deep breath. It was possible that she could find answers here, she was hopeful. A soft rap came from the bedroom door and Sarah quietly walked over and peered out.

A maid stood with a tray of food and curtsied, "Hungry, ma'am?" Sarah opened the door fully and the maid came in and set the try on a small table-stand. She then went to the armoire and opened the doors wide to display rows of dresses. She smiled and pulled one out to air. "You must be special, hmm?'

Sarah frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Well, with the king seeking a private audience with you and all, you must be special." The maid smiled, "You're to meet him in half an hour, so eat, change into that," she said pointing to the dress, "and meet him in his study."

"Where is that?"

The maid rolled her eyes, "I'll have a page brought to you." She curtsied again, turned and exited as quickly as she came.

Sarah eyed the tray. It was a simple morning meal; cup of tea and some unknown fruits. She was starving, and though she didn't recognize any of the foods, her empty stomach really didn't need it identified and she ate until she was satiated. From the vanity, she picked up a comb and brushed through her hair, enjoying the sensation. Somewhere in the castle a clock chimed and a knock came from the door. Without a response the door opened and a tall slender boy entered and gave her a small bow.

"I m to show you to his Excellency." He straightened, "Please follow me." He waited a moment while Sarah rose nervously and then turned and walked down the halls. Even though Sarah tried she couldn't keep the path straight in her head. The halls twisted and turned on themselves. Usually small windows filtered in the daylight, but in some areas torches were lit to light the way. A few more turns and the boy stopped at a door and tapped ever so lightly. A voice called from within and he opened the door, bowing low, "You highness, I've brought the girl."

"Bring her in." Sarah could hear the voice, but had not stepped in the room. She hesitated now and the young boy shot her a warning look that sent her hurriedly into the room. The boy turned, and closed the door as he left. It left Sarah standing in a large room.

It was brightly lit with candles, but no windows that she could see. They must be in the center of the castle then. Before her was the same man she saw the night before and she blushed softly at the thought. He was sitting at a desk glancing at a paper, showing no signs he even realized she was in the room. She fidgeted with her dress and jumped slightly when the paper rustled as he set it upon the desk. It was the loudest sound in the room.

"Please, sit." He said suddenly. The girl looked scared and white. She did as he said and folded her hands in her lap looking away from him. "You are Sarah, correct?" She nodded but did not look his way. "This is my kingdom, Sarah. The kingdom of Dorensae. I am Jareth."

"The king," she whispered softly.

He smiled, but she did not see. "Yes, I am the king." He leaned back against his chair. "Tell me, do you know how you came to be here?"

Her hands tightened again. What should she tell him, how much? Would he even believe her? Her life was essentially resting in his hands, and she was very afraid that any moment he would send her back to the dungeons. She couldn t breathe; she couldn t get any sound out. And her face was moist as tears dropped from her eyes. She heard a sigh and looked up as the king offered her a handkerchief. She accepted it silently and dried her tears.

"I'll not harm you," Jareth said after several silent moments. He waited. Finally she looked up to him, most of the fear gone from her eyes.

"I swear, I m not his slave, or his servant. I don t know how I got here, or why I am here, or who I am," the last word was choked out.

Jareth frowned. He figured Tarrence kidnapped the girl, but magicking her? That was unheard of. Why would Terrence risk so much for a single Underground girl. It was then that Sarah's scent hit him. Not from the Underground from Above. This was a human girl in front of him. Did Tarrence realize this? Jareth wasn't sure, but he wasn't going to let the lord know now, not after sheltering her. He was aware she was still watching him and he managed to keep the revelation behind his eyes. But now, what to do with her? Full blooded humans were rare Underground, most had a mixing of Underground and Above parentage. In fact, the only other full blooded human he knew was his second in command. "You have no memory of how you came to be here?" He asked again suddenly.

She shook her head. "No, sir. I awoke on a hill," and then the scene must have been painful for she shut her eyes, "There were just men, everywhere. Seizing and grabbing me..." her voice trailed off.

Jareth stood elegantly from his chair. "You will stay here, for the time being." He gestured for her to stand and she hastily did. "Stay in the upper floors, do not wander below, do you understand?" She nodded, but he doubted she truly did. He paced away from her, turning his back. "The man who claims you is still in the castle, you must not see him." This time her nod was more vigorous. "I'm sorry I have no good news for you," he said softly.

"I'm alive because of you." Her voice whispered through the room and Jareth spun around. There, in the dim candlelight the girl in front of him was a beauty. It was just a small thought that had sneaked into his head, but he agreed with it whole heartily. "I.." she began but stammered before taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, "I don't really know how to repay you."

He didn't answer her for a moment. It was true, he had saved her life, it wasn't the first debt of that kind, but Jareth knew he didn't save her for selfish reasons. He shook his head, "It was my pleasure." They stood like that in the silence for a few heartbeats looking at each other. Jareth wasn't sure why, but he was at peace with her, with this Sarah, and the Labyrinth practically was singing out to him. And Sarah felt safer in his presence than she had since she woke up in this strange place. Jareth wanted to speak more to her, to put her mind at ease, but before he could another knock came from his door. It opened quietly and Didymus entered a few steps before seeing another person standing in the room with the king.

Didymus was surprised. He hadn't known the king had requested someone. He bowed as Jareth's eyes lit up at the interruption. "My Lord, forgive me," he said bowing low, "I did not realize you had an audience." He turned to leave, but Jareth s voice called back to him.

"Didymus, this is the Lady Sarah." Whatever had passed between them was gone, shattered as Didymus had entered the room. Even the Labyrinth's presence was more subdued, quieted, and Jareth sensed a strange longing. He couldn't tell if it was the Labyrinth's or his; for so many years their will was as one. And he found it didn't really matter anyway.

"A pleasure, my Lady." Didymus was confused at Jareth's words. This was the same girl from the slaves, but Jareth had him bowing to her like royalty. It was odd. Not that the king was cruel, but the happenings of the lower gentry usually fell on Didymus' lap. Didymus straightened and swallowed, unsure whether to continue or to leave them alone again. The girl fidgeted but remained silent, a slight blush to her cheeks. Jareth had turned away for a moment, so Didymus continued to speak. "A few of the other Lords have arrived, Sire."

Jareth nodded his head. He was well aware of the early arrivals. The noise from the precession would have been enough to wake him had he been alseep. He hadn't been though. Slowly he rubbed a temple with a gloved finger, he hadn't been sleeping well at all. Whenever he closed his eyes images sprung up that he couldn't control and couldn't make sense of. It seemed to be coming from the Labyrinth, but the Labyrinth had a funny way of making Jareth guess what it wanted. Pushing his inner ramblings aside, Jareth glanced at his second, "Who?"

"Lady Emma and Lord Ovster." Didymus supplied. He noticed that Sarah had turned to watch Jareth as he leaned against a wall, head in hand.

"Oh? I suppose I should great them." There wasn't any animosity in his words, just exhaustion. Jareth liked the Lady Emma; she had been raised in Dorensae and was one of the few people he trusted. Ovster was one of his more annoying, if not loyal lords. Though Jareth wasn't sure if Ovster's loyalty was to *him*, or to his father. Not that it mattered anyway.

"Which was the reason for my call, M'Lord." Didymus replied. Something was bothering Jareth, Didymus had been friends with the king their entire long lives. But Jareth was also good at hiding things when he wanted, and right now Didymus couldn't imagine what was troubling him so. He vowed to ask later. Then the king did something that shocked him.

"Sarah," Jareth said as if remembering her presence in the room. She looked up to him quickly as he said her name, "would you be interested in joining us?"

Though she hadn't remembered actually answering the king, Sarah found herself following Jareth as he led the way. She walked silently next to him, Didymus a few feet behind. Didymus had informed Jareth that the lords were waiting in the common hall, a smaller room for more intimate gatheringS on the third floor. Unlike Lord Tarrence, the Lady Emma was allowed the upper levels of the castle due to her close proximity of the present king, namely, being raised with him. Lord Ovster was given the courtesy due to the past King and Jareth would never insult the lord, so Ovster was also allowed access to the upper floors.

As they rounded a corner, two doorman stood to attention. One bowed low as the other opened the massive wooden doors to the room. Sarah was amazed.  
The hall was brightly lit from numerous windows high above their heads. chandeliers dropped from the ceiling, but not one was lit. It was all natural light. The stone walls were clean and smooth and several different banners waved lazily in a soft breeze. The only bit of furniture in the room was a long table, not overly large but enough to sit eight to ten comfortably, and the chairs that encircled it. Already a woman with long blonde hair and a man with greying hair were chatting amiably at the table, small goblets resting on the table, a basket of fruits laid between them.  
When the doors closed behind them the other woman glanced their way, a smile gracing her beautiful face.

She stood fluidly, crossed the distance between them and embraced Jareth with a small kiss on the cheek. "You're looking well, Jareth."

"And you as well, Emma." he replied with a soft smile. Emma was the closest thing he had to a sister, but sometimes her closeness was bothersome. He stepped away and gestured to Sarah, who was staring at the woman before them. "Lady Emma, may I present to you, the Lady Sarah."

Emma *had* noticed the young woman next to Jareth, but had assumed her to be a new servant girl. She was only dressed in a simple cotton dress, nothing to suggest a title. But Emma was born into royalty. She covered her confusion with a small bow, "My lady, a pleasure."

Sarah blushed and returned the bow. She was always left speechless here; never knew what to say. The silence would have continued longer had Jareth not noticed Ovster's hand beckoning him over. "Come, Sarah. Meet another of my lords." Without touching her, he escorted Sarah away from Emma and closer to the other man. Emma watched them go a moment before turning to Didymus, who was also watching them. "Alright, Didymus. What's going on?" She whispered quickly. "If that girl is a lady, then I am a maid."

Didymus' eyes locked onto Lady Emma's and she held them in a fierce gaze. He had never been able to lie to her, not ever in their long acquaintance, but he found himself unable to answer either. This Sarah had managed to confuse him. Jareth rarely granted rank, and never seemed so protective of anything except the borders. Didymus watched as Jaerth interacted with Sarah and wondered what was passing through his liege's mind, for it was not evident to Didymus.

Lady Emma tapped her foot, "Didymus?"

With a sigh and a shrug he took her arm and escorted her back towards the table. "I don't know what to tell you, Emma."

Someone laughed at the table as Didymus and Emma sat. Ovster had laughed, and from the way Sarah blushed it had been at her expense. They were all seated; Jareth at the head, an elbow propped up on the chair's armrest. He motioned with his hand and several servants emerged with trays of food which were situated carefully around the table. Sarah eyed the food, but did not touch it. She wasn't very hungry, but then she noticed no one else touched the food either. After a few moments, Jareth grabbed a goblet of wine and then the other diners filled their plates. Sarah followed suit and listened to the conversation.

"I hear the Lord of Torin caused a commotion," Ovster began as he bit into a piece of cheese. His grey hair, though short, was unruly giving him a slightly comedic look.

Jareth sipped his wine. "Nothing serious," he replied his voice devoid of any emotion.

That caught Ovster's attention and his brows rose. "Nothing serious? I heard you confiscated an entire shipment of cargo." His tone hardened, "We lords need *some* autonomy, Your Highness."

A flicker of annoyance was all Sarah saw, and then Jareth replied calmly. "Remember that the next time you request aid with those brigands."

Ovster bristled, but Emma sighed loudly. "Come now, come now; it is a lovely day and there is no need for this now. We'll have plenty of time when the other lords arrive."

Ovster laughed aloud and Jareth gave a nod in agreement. Afterwards the room's atmosphere seemed to lighten considerably. Ovster continued most of the meal talking about different taxes and imports and exports. Emma commented occasionally , as did Jareth and Didymus, but Sarah knew nothing of economics and remained silent.

Shortly, a page entered the room and bowed low to Jareth. "If it pleases his Majesty, the Healer wishes an audience with the Lady Sarah." Sarah paled a little, but Jareth just nodded. The page was ushering her out of the room before she could utter a word, but as she left she heard the conversation continue. With a sigh, she followed the page.

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**ug...I should have added this part with the last update, but I was tired...I was just going to add it with the next update but it really doesn't work. It has to go here. This is one of the last slow, foundation building chapters so stick with me. After that, its away we go!**

* * *

A door was slightly ajar and the page knocked on it briskly. "The Lady Sarah, Healer Zalick." Then  
the page bowed to Sarah and disappeared again around a corner.

Zalick hobbled to the door and greeted Sarah enthusiastically. "You look much better," he said with  
approval. "And how do you feel?"

"Fine," she replied softly, but actually she felt better than fine. It was like she had never been  
hurt before, ever. Like she was brand new.

Zalick straightened his glasses on his nose, "Alright, alright, excellent. Let me see." To Sarah's  
surprise the healer closed his eyes and reached out to her. With one hand he touched her shoulder,  
another lightly pressed a back rib. Nothing hurt and she smiled as the healer's eyes opened. "Very good.  
Keep a watch on that shoulder and you should be just fine." He turned away and scrambled to a shelf,  
organizing a few jars.

Sarah stood there for a moment lost in thought. Did she want to return to the hall and finish the meal?

Not really. What she really wanted was to see something other than stone walls. It was a double edged

sword the predicament she found herself in. On the one hand she was protected, but on the other she was confined.

After a few moments Zalick renoticed Sarah standing still, her eyes unfocused. "Sarah, my dear, whatever  
is the matter?"

Her eyes focused on him, "What? Nothing?"

He frowned, "It is a lovely day, why not venture outside?"

Sarah made a sour face. "I can't. I can't leave the castle..." That was a bitter fact to realize. In the  
end it seemed she traded one prison for another. One that was more luxurious, but a prison still.

Zalick stepped back, "You come with me, my dear Sarah." The bent man grabbed a cane and walked briskly  
past Sarah. She turned on her heels and followed as closely as she could. For someone with a crooked  
back the healer was making excellent time through the corridors and only slowed to navigate a flight of stairs.  
By the time they reached their destination both were slightly out of breath. Zalick leaned against a door  
and smiled broadly as he pulled it open.

The first thing Sarah felt was the sun. The warm rays embraced her and filled her with so much warmth. The  
second thing she noticed was the smell. Or smells, more precisely. Her eyes adjusted to the bright, golden  
light and found herself in a garden balcony. The air was fragrant, so many flowers were in bloom. The paths  
were dotted with a multitude of colors and greenery. She didn't know the names of anything, she didn't care.  
Instead, she took a few steps foward and sat on a stone bench beside a flowering bush. "Thank you," was all  
she could say. This place was more than she could have ever wished for, and she was thankful so much to  
the healer for showing it to her.

Zalick just grinned, "I will leave you now. Do you remember your way back?" Sarah nodded so Zalick turned  
away, closing the door on Sarah's sanctuary.

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**Phew. That's all I can do right now. Keep with me, this is slow for now, I know, but its about to move forward with leaps and bounds. Just gotta have some support for up coming chapters.**

**Thanks to those who reviewed, it is greatly appreciated. (And to satta; thank you.)  
**


	7. Midnight Rendezvous

**Well, here it is. Don't forget to read the end of last chapter. I added a little something new. oh, and I don't own Labyrinth, duh, right?  
**

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Jareth stormed into his private chambers and slammed the door forcibly behind him. It had to have been one of the most trying days he had ever experienced. With growing agitation he unclasped his cape and draped it over a chair, falling into the same chair after stripping off his boots and gloves. All day he had dealt with grievous complaints from overdue taxes to arguments between neighbors. It was exhausting work at any time, but lately he had been unable to sleep much. He scoffed at himself. He hadn't been able to sleep at all in the past few days. Ever since...  
He let the thought drift off and forced himself to think of something else, not that it worked. Lately his thoughts seemed to dwell on a certain black haired beauty and the preoccupation was starting to worry him. He found all of his spare moments thinking of her; it was starting to become an obsession, an obsession the Labyrinth seemed to encourage.

That was another area of concern; the near overwhelming presence of the Labyrinth's magic. The Labyrinth, usually so dormant and docile, had awoken with a vengeance and seemed hell bent on communicating something to Jareth. Whenever he tried to rest, or even close his eyes for a moment, he was bombarded with images from the Labyrinth. Nearly all the sights revolved around Sarah. Jareth was wondering if it was *his* obsession, or the Labyrinth's. But regardless of the origins something stirred within him whenever he thought about her and whenever he saw her. With a sigh he noted the late time as the mantle clock chimed midnight. At the moment the Labyrinth was quiet and Jareth was almost hopeful. Perhaps tonight he would finally find some rest. It was a short lived thought, for at that moment he was assaulted with new images. These images flashed quickly in his mind; a snowy white owl, a room of stairs,  
a bloody battle ground, and many others that swirled around one central fixture: Sarah.

"Fine." He uttered through clinched teeth. "Fine." He wasn't going to just sit in his chambers wishing for rest.  
Jareth strode out of the room, chased from what should have been a sanctuary by the image of a girl.

* * *

Evening tea was becoming a routine with the lady Emma. On the third day of Sarah's stay, Emma had brought them into a small room. It was brightly lit with candles that cast a soft, flickering light on the room. Emma sat at a small table and began pouring the tea. Sarah didn't really want tea. She wandered over to the window and peered into the darkening sky. The sun was setting quickly to the west. Small smoke stacks filled the air and Sarah noticed for the first time a gathering of tents and shacks lining the city walls. "What are those?"

Emma looked up from her tea. She saw Sarah pointing out the window, so she stood and joined her there. Her eyes followed Sarah's finger to the outside gates. She grimaced, "Those are the goblins."

"The goblins?" Sarah echoed confused. "What are they doing there?"

Emma's eyes narrowed. Everyone in the Underground knew about the goblin epidemic. All subjects were terrified.  
Some mothers were beginning to kill their children rather than risk them turning into the little deformed creatures. So how could Sarah not know? At the earliest convenience she resolved to ask Jareth.

Sarah looked at the Lady Emma who stared at Sarah with a harsh expression. "Lady Emma? Have I upset you?"  
She couldn't hide the horror in her voice at possibly insulting the Lady Emma.

At Sarah's shaking question, Emma's eyes softened. With a deep breath she began to explain, "A little under a year ago the children of the Underground started to be transformed. Slowly at first, but now...look." She also pointed outside at what was quickly being called the "Goblin City". Emma sighed. "No magic can cure them,  
not that we have found."

"Is that why the council is meeting?" It clarified the subtle urgency rippling under the surface of everyone at the castle.

Emma nodded. "We are waiting for the arrival of Stivin and Brynt."

At that moment a page entered the room and bowed to the Ladies. He handed Lady Emma an envelope and then left the room, all without speaking a word. Emma opened the letter absentmindedly then smiled brightly as she recognized the writing. "Its from Sajal. Sarah, will you excuse me?"

Sarah nodded, giving a small smile at her friends joyous face. She stifled a yawn, "I was going to retire any way." She left Emma and found her way back to her room. The paths that she traveled regularly she had memorized and had no trouble reaching her room.

She was ready for sleep within minutes and her eyes closed nearly instantly as she laid down on the large bed. Something began tugging on her consciousness though, something that would not leave her alone. She struggled to wake, her eyes searching the black room. She hadn't heard anything, she was certain, but she had *felt* something. She scanned the room; she was alone. Again the same feeling overcame her, that someone, or something was pushing at her mind, but this time she could make out a whisper. She sat up, "Who is there?" Her question was met with silence that left her questioning herself. Again the feeling came. The whisper was easier to hear and the word it spoke surprised her. It was calling to her. The voice was so tender, she never thought to be afraid. "Yes, yes I'm here." She answered. Though not quite whispering she kept her own voice low as she scrambled out of bed. It was pitch dark in her room, the heavy curtains blocking the moon light.

"Come..." The voice strengthened and moved about the room.

Sarah didn't hesitate, she just grabbed a thin robe and wrapped it around her nightgown. "Where? Where am I going?" She asked as she walked to the chamber door. It opened on its own before she reached it, the voice echoing down the hall, "to help...to help..." The voice was moving and Sarah could see a faint glow down the hall. With a deep breath she followed.

It was quiet throughout the halls and Sarah had no trouble following voice, though now that Sarah thought about it, it really was more a presence.

"Come..." it repeated turning a corner.

Sarah recognized the path. If they turned another corner it would lead to the garden balcony. As Sarah thought this,  
the glow turned down the hall. "Help...him..." The glow stopped at the door casting an eerie blue light on Sarah as she approached. "Help who?" Her own voice quavered slightly.

The door opened and the glow encircled Sarah. She felt safe, warm, and protected. It lasted only a second, but her eyes teared over. The glow dissipated with one final word, "Him..."

Sarah did not move for a moment. The garden's fragrance was subdued in the night, but still sweet. The moon was full and bathed the balcony in its pure white light. It was breezy and Sarah tightened the robe as she stepped onto the path.  
Her eyes scanned the view, but all she saw was the garden. She looked back over her shoulder; the door was closed now and for some reason that didn't surprise her. Sighing she continued on the main path and ventured further into the garden.

Within a few moments Sarah made out a figure in the distance. A few more feet and she recognized the silhouette of the king. His hands were stretched out before him resting on the stone balcony railing, the rest of his body leaning forward. The moonlight practically made his hair glow, a shining halo. As she stepped closer it was apparent he was in deep thought. His eyes were closed and there was an unnatural stillness around him. Even though there was a breeze his hair and clothes were still. She noticed too that his feet and hands were bare. The king had never looked so vulnerable or so beautiful.

Without any cause her heart jumped into her throat and she was hesitant to approach him. The past couple days he had barely said a word to her, worrying her if she had somehow offended him. But she berated that thought as childish.  
He was a king, a king with a growing crisis. Why would he spend time with her? She almost turned back right then,  
her feet poised to pivot when she heard his voice cut through the silence.

"Sarah, come over here."

Caught. That was the only thought that went through her mind as she swallowed and approached him. He had not moved and she stood looking over the balcony noting another garden below them on the main grounds. Though she heard nothing, Sarah knew the king had moved. Turning her head slightly she was met with his mismatched eyes. They flickered left and right,  
almost searching for something in her own eyes. There were clouds in his eyes, a deep unrest that swirled in shades of blue and green. It was then she noticed the darkened circles under his eyes. He was too close to her, it was unnerving.

Jareth closed his eyes and shifted slightly away from her. It was only a few inches, but the distance left Sarah with a pronounced emptiness. The voice's message came back to her then and she found her voice, "Are...are you alright?" He looked at her sideways with that same searching expression. "Couldn't you sleep?" she continued.

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. "It will not let me." Sarah frowned, but before she could question him further he continued, "And what about you, hmm?"

"I..." her voice trailed off. He glanced at her and she continued, suddenly determined to tell him the whole truth. "I was brought here."

"Oh?" Jareth turned towards her, leaning his back against the wall. He sighed and brought his hand up to his temple. His eyes widened and then closed as if he were suffering from great pain. It lasted only a moment and when he opened his eyes the blue and green orbs were much calmer. A storm had passed within his eyes and he smiled, "I see."

Sarah held her breath. The king was dazzling when he truly smiled and she wanted nothing more than to embrace him. The thought shocked her and she felt her cheeks redden.

The breeze kicked up again and on the wind she heard the soft whisper, "see...." It surrounded them both. There was a teasing quality to it, not the urgent pressing that she had experienced earlier.

"Yes, I see." Jareth answered the wind with a tired resignation she had never heard him use before.

Sarah licked her lips nervously. "What does it mean?"

He flashed her another smile. "Oh, you can hear it too, can you?" Then as if to himself muttered, "I don't have time for this." His face changed then into a determined scowl and he abruptly pushed away from the balcony and walked past her.

"Jaerth! Wait!" She grabbed at his hand quite embarrassed at her outburst and at her daring. On contact a jolt of energy shot through her arm, but she didn't focus on it. Instead she continued quickly before he pulled away. "What is the matter? Maybe..." she paused as he spun towards her staring at their joined hands. "Maybe I can help," she finished lamely. A tear fell down her cheek and with her loose hand she brushed it away. Any minute now he would pull away and she found it unbearable. Another tear fell, but she was startled as a different hand lightly touched her cheek. Startled she looked up to see Jareth studying her. His hand remained on her face and she savored the warmth she felt. He shook his head slowly as if still arguing with himself.

"I'm tired of fighting you," he whispered wearily. Sarah didn't know if he was speaking to her or not, but the wind came again and with it a response: "Then don't."

Sarah took a gamble and stepped closer to Jareth; the front of their bodies separated only by a few layers of cloth. "Then don't," she echoed suddenly sure of herself. Something was happening. She couldn't define it, couldn't comprehend it, but knew with absolute certainty that she could not live without the man before her. The words were barely spoken before her lips were seized by his.

The wind became a tempest swirling and twirling around the embracing man and woman. Rose petals danced in the air circling them, but didn't touch them. It was a beautiful sight, but neither paid any attention as the petals floated to meet the moon in the night sky; they were too absorbed in one another.

* * *

**well...I'll come back to them a little later. My Jareth/Sarah muse is panting and out of breath. I'm going to work on Tarrence for a while now.**


	8. Midnight Serpents

Tarrence's temper was not improved after all day of litigation and he sat lazily in a chair in his quarters that Jareth had provided. It seemed that every problem he left in Torin had followed him to Dorensae. Obviously business did not cease just because a lord or lady left their realm. Problems seemed to have a nasty way of multiplying if not dealt with swiftly.

That was a bitter lesson to learn. Take the slave girls he had wanted for instance. Not only was he without the girls, but a damned fine was imposed on him by that insufferable man, Didymus. It didn't occur to him that he should be lucky to still have his head. Jareth needed all of his lords alive; there were too few nobles left to fill vacant positions. Tarrence was not worried by such a thing.

Jareth. Now that was a problem that Tarrence was willing to resolve. The king had not granted him one audience since the slave girls were released, though he asked repeatedly to be seen. He remembered Didymus warning him, "I would not push too hard on this Lord Tarrence. Maybe his avoidance is a blessing." Ha! So, he had rattled Jareth, or infuriated him, either way it didn't matter much. In the end he had distracted Jareth's attentions elsewhere, which was really the main point. Tarrence glanced at the clock and sighed. Nearly midnight and he had a meeting to attend.

He made his way to the garden grounds, the tall towers of the castle blocking the moon and casting him in shadows. It suited his purpose though. He found himself roaming through the paths. Like the Labyrinth itself the garden had twists and turns. Every inch that was not a path was covered in flora. Little insects buzzed in the night air and the garden's night flowers were in full bloom. It was a beautiful sight and Tarrence hated it. It was a waste of space to him. Tarrence sighed impatiently and wondered where Baz was. He had sent the man to find the exact locations of Lords Stivin and Brynt, for Tarrence was done waiting for the fools. Jareth, however;seemed content to wait for their arrival. It was just another glaring example of how wrong Jareth was in the position of High King. A king shouldn't *wait*. Ever.

Somewhere in the distance Tarrence could make out a conversation. Sneering, he almost turned away and retreated back the way he came. Almost. One of the voices was familiar, and against his better judgement (for Tarrence was not a curious man by nature) he crept closer making sure to keep hidden in the shadows. At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him. There was just no logic to the sight before him, but he blinked and the image remained. On a balcony above him, illuminated by the full moon stood the king Jareth and the slave girl; the special one. Tarrence watched as the two exchanged words that he could not make out, but the meaning was all too clear when Jareth bent towards the girl and kissed her.

"Well, that's certainly interesting."

The words came from the man who just appeared next to Tarrence. He glanced sideways acknowledging Baz. The man's black eyes watched the scene above them for a moment before shaking his head. Tarrence's voice was hard and flat, "It is, at that." He turned and ventured back into the garden, away from the sight, Baz a few feet behind. "Did you find them then?" It was better to think on matters on hand, not speculate about the scene he just witnessed.

Baz nodded, "They met at Torin's Pass and will continue the rest of the journey together."

"They didn't see you, did they?" A small thought was being born. It was just so...impossible?

"Or course not, M'Lord." Baz waited in the shadows for his next instructions. His lord's eyes were focused on the ground, his face turned down in a frown. Then Tarrence began to pace back and forth. Baz raised his eyebrows. His lord was plotting something. Baz knew that expression and resisted the urge to grin. He did enjoy Tarrence's schemes.

Tarrence turned towards the bronze man, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Do we have troops there?"

This time the smile spread wide, "Yes, My Lord," was Baz's instant reply. He liked where this was going.

"Hmm..." Tarrence resumed his pacing. Would he forever be just a lord? Never a king? Should he sit by content with the daily cycle of meetings never to fulfill his true potential? And he had discovered a wonderful secret not long ago. A way to bolster his own magic. Seemingly undetected, for neither the king nor the other nobles had questioned him about it. He glanced down at his gloved hand and flexed it. There was blood on that hand, though no one else could see it. Was it such a terrible cost for power? He didn't believe so. Maybe it was time for Tarrence to act, and to stop being a puppet. "Baz, I don't want them to reach Dorensae. Is this clear?"

"Crystal clear," was Baz's reply.

Tarrence looked at his second. There was something in Baz's tone that had caused him to pause. There was no hesitancy, no questions asked, just an affirmative response. It was a little unsettling to see the delight dancing in Baz's eyes, but Tarrence decided to ignore it. Baz was just the means to the end. "Do not leave survivors, I'm sure they are traveling with a court. And do not go in colors (referring to the practice of waving the region's banner with troop movements)." He saw Baz nod with agreement.  
"Bring me a girl before you leave." Tarrence began to walk away and then as an after though added, "I want this done before the moon sets and the sun rises."

"Of course," was Baz's answer. He watched Tarrence slip away into the night and began working on his tasks. The first one was easiest: finding a girl. Baz disappeared from the garden and reappeared in a small village outside the Labyrinth's borders. It never ceased to amaze him that no one questioned his ability to do magic. He was not an Immortal, but everyone assumed him to be and that suited him just fine. He crept through the deserted town square and followed a dirt road to a small cottage he saw up on a hill. The moon's light was more than enough to see by, but had it been covered Baz would have seen perfectly. Without a sound he entered the cottage and made way to a certain room. He knew what he would find there; he could smell it. A young girl of maybe fifteen years slept soundly on her small little cot, an old wool blanket gathered around her shoulders. She was perfect. Innocent and sweet. With a malicious grin Baz grabbed her and transported them away from the cottage. The girl never even woke as Baz lay her gently on Tarrence's bed.

Baz did not wait for his lord's arrival. Instead, he began preparations for the second set of instructions. He transported himself directly to the stables and saw his stead watching him wearily. Baz smiled. The horse was much like himself, always ready for action, loath to be still. "We have another mission," he whispered as he approached the horse.

Within minutes Baz and his black stallion left the stable. With an easy spell their departure went unnoticed by the guard. The horse was unnaturally fast and at his own pace would reach Tarrence's legion by morning. Baz did not have that much time. He augmented the horse's ability and they flew across the landscape arriving at a small post on the North side of Torin Pass; a mountain range that separated Torin from Jareth's Labyrinth. It was within an hour of leaving the castle. Baz dismounted and saluted the night guard.  
"Bring me your commander."

The guard returned the salute with a "Yes, sir" and disappeared into the night. A few moments later an older man came forward.  
The guard resumed his post as the two men stepped back from the post's lamp lights and into the darkness.

"I have orders for you, Commander." Baz noticed the man's appearance with a little disdain. He did not particularly like this commander,  
but he was loyal to Tarrence and that was all that mattered.

The commander straightened, "I am ready to serve the Lord Tarrance. What are the orders?"

So Baz laid out the plans. The commander was slightly shocked by such orders, but valued his life over that of the other lords and remained silent. "No survivors?"

Baz shook his head. "No survivors. I will join with you as well." Baz watched as disbelief spread over the commander's face. He was expecting an argument. That would have been welcomed, then Baz could just kill the fool. But the man held his peace and bowed low. "It shall be done." Baz smiled at the words and watched the commander return to the post with a brisk pace. Afterwards the scene was that of chaos as two dozen men were awakened in the dead of the night and told to suit up and mount their horses. Though Baz may not have liked the commander, he was pleased by the smooth process which the legion prepared itself. Not long after his arrival Baz joined the troops riding swiftly south.

They came upon the resting stop of the lords and their courts as the moon began to settle. Baz's knowledge of their whereabouts led them straight. In a clearing several tents had been erected around a smoldering fire pit. The horses were detached from at least six carriages, and one look out was slumped against a tree trunk. An arrow to the heart had silenced the man before he even had time to sound the alarm. The horses hooves were the loudest sound by far, but Baz wasted a little magic dampening the noise leaving the men free to cut down the sleeping nobles. Half of the court was dead before a sound was issued. Baz smiled as the sound of sword on bone filled the night. A few times he heard screams, but they were silenced quickly. Within minutes the camp was drenched in blood.  
The commander walked through the carnage, noting the corpses. A few times he found someone still breathing. With a quick stab of his sword he remedied that. The bodies of Stivin and Brynt had both been found and laid out for Baz to see. Baz grinned, mad with delight. "Leave them here to rot. Return to your post and wait for further instructions." Baz's horse reared as he pulled the reins.  
"Cover the horses footprints," was the last thing he said before turning away and continuing south through the mountain pass.

While Baz was washing the ground with blood, Tarrence was delighted with the young girl in his chambers. She was a pretty young thing with sandy blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Those blue eyes were watching him in terror right now as he approached her once again. A few steps was all it took to close the distance. She tried to scream, but Tarrence grabbed her throat, choking off the sound. She tried to fight him off, she kicked at his legs, but Tarrence just smiled at her. It was his smile that made her stop her thrashing. It was if she realized there was nothing she could do. And she was right. Tarrence brought his free hand from behind and plunged a knife straight into her heart. Her eyes widened, dimmed, and then slowly closed as Tarrence felt her body go limp. He dropped her and yanked out the knife. The blood dripped out of the wound and pooled around the body.  
Tarrence got on his knees and placed his bare hands in the warm liquid. He tightened his grip on the hilt of the knife and then swiftly cut his wrist open. No blood fell from his cut, instead the blood around him pulsed and changed direction. It flowed straight from the body of the girl and into his own body. As the blood flowed to him he could feel his power growing. It was intoxicating and over too soon. He stood and glanced down below him. There was no mess to clean up; all of her blood was now within him, strengthening him. In the distance a bell broke the night's silence. At that moment, Baz re-entered the room and bowed low to Tarrence, noting the dead girl with only a quick look. Tarrenced smiled. "It is done then?"

Baz heard the bell continue to toll. "Most assuredly, M'Lord."

"Excellent. Now we shall wait and see." Tarrance stepped over the dead body. "I must go. Dispose of this," he waited for Baz to nod and then left the room. Now the real games would begin.

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**I thought that this chapter turned out pretty good. Please give me a shout out and tell me what you think.**


	9. For Whom the Bell Tolls

Jareth had never felt so many conflicting emotions raging through him as he did kissing Sarah.  
One part was ecstatic, another worried, another frightened, but the largest part of him was just relieved and in wonder. The moment his lips had touched her's all the images in his head disappeared. He was loath to break the embrace, but did so anyway, pulling away from her slowly. She did not protest, but instead continued to hold him, looking up at him. Her lips were a bit swollen and he found himself caressing them with his thumb. She closed her eyes and then opened them when he sighed and said quietly, "This is insanity. You know that, don't you?" To his surprise she laughed.

Sarah saw his expression and laughed again. "Insane? No, I don't think so." She was at a loss for a moment on how to continue, her thoughts scattered as all her mind wanted to do was relive that kiss. But she grabbed onto some inspiration and looked up at the man before her. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"By all means," he said with a slight smile.

Sarah took a deep breath and clutched Jareth's arms a little tighter, "I don't remember anything about my life prior to three days ago and waking up in a desert. I have been beaten and scared to death." She closed her eyes against the memory. "And twice you have saved me..." her voice trailed off and she fought to keep a sudden flow of tears at bay. Jareth sighed again, but did not release her. She quickly finished, "I think, in this entire world, you and I are the only ones *not* insane."

Looking into those green eyes he could easily believe anything she said. He needed to believe in her, to believe in something for a change. As he closed his eyes once again he leaned his cheek against her forehead. "That doesn't mean it will be easy. The rest of the Underground will not be pleased to know they have lost their minds," the last part was colored in humor. Sarah laughed and then shivered as another crisp breeze chilled her. She wasn't going to mention it, but Jareth noticed and stepped slightly away, extending his hand to her, "Well, come one." There was some thing different about his tone that Sarah picked up on right away. It was if a burden had been lifted. She accepted his hand and hoped that she had helped him with that.

In a blink of an eye Sarah was no longer standing on the balcony but instead in an entrance of a massive room. Jareth had released her and was striding down a hall, out of sight. Sarah took stock of her surroundings with wide eyes. This first room was obviously a work space. The walls were lined with tomes, a desk was littered with papers, and there were only two leather chairs, one on either side of the desk. Sarah found herself walking out of this room and down a hall; the same that Jareth had taken. The second room was a bit more cozy. Warm red and orange tapestries covered the stone walls and a fire was roaring in a brick fireplace easily big enough for her to stand in. In front of the warm fire was a davenport in rich blue. Sarah paused there a second, wanting to sit and enjoy the fire, but also wanting to explore more. Her curiosity got the better of her and she slipped down the hall one more time. The next room was truly stunning and took her breath away.  
It was obviously a bedroom for there was a large four post bed in the corner. Everything was decorated in different blue and green hues and though it was mostly a bare room, it was hard to focus on just any one thing. A movement caught her attention and she turned to see Jareth entering from a smaller antechamber. His eyebrows rose at finding her there and her cheeks darkened, but instead on commenting on her presence, he brought forward a tray with a teapot and two cups.

"Come on, let's not waste the fire," he said lightly as he walked by her. She instantly followed him into the other room.

Sarah watched him pour the tea as she sat on the davenport and asked conversationally, "Where are we?"

That knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he handed her a cup of steaming tea. "These are my private chambers."

Sarah *had* figured as much, and for some reason the knowledge did not bother her. She watched as Jareth waved a lazy hand over the tray and it disappeared from sight. It was not the first time she had witnessed such a thing, for even their appearance in this room was magical, but she never knew how anyone performed such acts. As Jareth sat next to her on the davenport she decided to ask him about it. "How do you do that?" He looked at her for a moment in confusion so she elaborated.  
"All of the things you do, all of the magic."

Sarah's question brought to light how extremely different they were. Not one person in the Underground would need magic explained to them. Not one person would need a history of magic. The question did not necessarily bother him, but it had been a topic he wanted to breach another time. Well, it had been asked, and he found it only polite to answer her, so he began. "Sarah, there are many things in the Underground that are taken for granted; one being magic. But let me explain a few things first because I think it will help you. To begin with, I do not believe you are from the Underground suffering from some sort of amnesia. There is a different feeling about you, one that only comes from being born Above."

She swallowed. "Above?" It rang a bell somewhere deep in her mind, but she couldn't pinpoint the reason.

Jareth nodded and took a sip of his tea. "It is a world like ours, and not like ours at the same time.  
It is the world of humans, like you." He let that set in for a moment and watched as confusion changed to comprehension across her face.

"You're not human?" She said suddenly understanding.

"No. I am from a different race that originated here, in the Underground." He had been watching her,  
but now he shifted his gaze and watched the fire dance before him. "The ability to do magic is granted in our blood."

She nodded. That would explain a few things. Mainly, he did not look like many of the other people in the castle. Only...a new comprehension dawned. "So, Emma, and Lord Ovster?"

Jareth smiled. She did catch on quickly. "Yes, they are also like me. All the Lords are alike."

Sarah could see that. Each of them had a distinct look, but there were similiarities. The eyes, for instance were tilted up, the angles of the face were sharp and drastic, and just the way Jareth and Emma moved was different. Ovster as well, but to a lesser degree that Sarah assumed was due to age. It was like every movement was choreographed, planned into one seamless dance. She had envied them their grace. "But what about Didymus?" she asked out of genuine curiosity. She liked the little she knew of Didymus.

"No," Was it her imagination, or was there a little sadness in Jareth's voice as he replied. "He is in fact pure human, like I believe you are."

She assimilated that piece of information and drank a little of her tea before setting it down on a table beside her. For the moment all her questions had died out and she found herself leaning against the sofa back suddenly exhausted.  
The fire was warm and making her sleepy. Jareth had also seemed to relax. He was leaning against the armrest, an arm propped up by the elbow, the other hand holding the tea. Sarah pulled her feet up and curled into a little ball on her side. Jareth smiled at her and they fell into an easy silence.

Sarah must have dozed off, but the sound of breaking glass brought reality into sharp focus. She sat up and noticed Jareth's tea cup broken and shattered on the fire place hearth. Frowning, she glanced at him and immediately knew something was wrong. His hands were frozen before him, his eyes vacant and staring into space. "Jareth?" The look on his face was frightening and she tried to shake him a little, but still his eyes did not focus on her. "Jareth!?" Panic was starting to seep into her voice. What was she to do? What was wrong with him? In the distance a bell began to ring and at the same time Jareth inhaled a ragged breath. A little at a time some life returned to his eyes and by the third chime of the bell he was blinking and focusing on Sarah. Even though he seemed to be back with her, the stricken look on his face had not disappeared and it filled Sarah with a cold dread. "what...what happened?"

"I..." Jareth's words faded away and he stood abruptly startling Sarah into backing away and stumbling into the sofa. Jareth could feel her concern for him, but now was not the time to explain. He had felt one of his kind leaving this life and it had been a horrible passing. The bell ringing in the distance confirmed his fear. It seemed the entire castle below had stirred at the sound of the chimes and Jareth pushed his grief down low.  
He would deal with it later, but for now he needed to find more information. He glanced down at Sarah who was waiting silently for him to answer. "Stay here." It came out harsher than he intended and Sarah winced at his tone. But then she seemed to look through him, reading him, and just nodded her head. He hesitated one second and was about to speak again when she gave him a small smile.

"Go. I'll wait here."

At that Jareth disappeared from the room. He reappeared in the throne room and noted a few servants running to and fro lighting candles in the room. With a spared thought, he lit them instantly.  
The servants stopped their chore, and at noticing their king bowed low. "Leave us." Was all he needed to say and the servants scurried away. Jareth could hear voices down the hall and he turned to see his nobles approaching.

Emma was the first into the room and as the dreaded bell continued cried out, "Who? Who has passed from us?"

Ovster, still in his bed robes also huffed, "What the hell is this about?"

Didymus and Tarrence remained silent as they all came to stand before Jareth. Didymus's face was hard to read and Tarrence's expression was impossible to try.

Jareth noted the panic in Emma's voice. All of his nobility seemed close to panic, except for Tarrence who was standing calmly next to Didymus, his eyes focused on something in the distance. The bell had finally quieted and they stood in silence for a moment before Jareth replied, "I couldn't tell who it was but it wasn't far.  
Didymus, prepare the horses and a handful of men. Notify me when this is done." He watched Didymus bow and leave and turned his attention back to Emma, who's usually pale face was ashen. "Emma, there's nothing we can do now." She cringed but nodded slowly.

"How did this happen?" Ovster rubbed his face with a hand wearily. The sounding of the bell had woken him from a deep sleep and he tried to shake off the last vestiges of slumber. No one answered his inquiring, but he hadn't expected that. A few moments passed by in silence. A thought occurred to him and he spoke, "If we are here," at this he gestured to Emma,  
himself and Tarrence, "and Emma surely would have known if Sajal was involved," she nodded at this ," then this only leaves Stivin or Brynt."

"Yes, I had thought the same." Jareth said. Didymus had reappeared in the doorway dressed in ridding clothes.  
He caught Jareth's attention. "I'll speak to you all in the morning," he said to the trio as he walked towards the door. The Lords and Lady inclined their heads to him and Jareth took their leave.

Emma picked up the conversation again. "They would be traveling together...they always do." Her voice was weak and quavered and she couldn't bring herself to say any names.

Tarrence sighed. "I suppose anything could be possible." They were all quiet. And then he continued, "A landslide? They do usually come through Torin Peak. Its treacherous weather right now." The silence resumed. The three of them lingered in the throne room, not knowing whether to retreat into their chambers, or stay and wait for the return of Jareth.

It was Ovster's voice that broke the silence. "Nothing good is going to come of this," Ovster said suddenly. He then sighed and took his leave, explaining to Tarrence that he was exhausted.

Emma watched him go and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to warm herself. "I think I shall retire also."  
She did not wait for a reply from Tarrence before leaving the throne room.

Tarrence held back a smile and watched first Ovster leave and then Lady Emma. Now he was alone in the throne room. Well, almost alone.  
There were a few guards posted in the entryway, but they were facing out. With a little grin he made his way to the throne. It was a large chair adorned with many jewels and laid in the purest gold. Tarrence allowed his hand to touch the chair. He wanted to sit in it, but fought the urge. The guards would surely not allow that.  
Ah well. Tarrence could be patient. With that thought in place he left the room for his chambers.

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**Sheesh. This chapter drove me nuts. I think this was like my fourth version :s. Anyway, read and review please. **


	10. Breaking Down

**Well, here's another. Oh, I don't own Laby, blah blah blah...I wonder if I can claim my Didymus though...hmm...oh well, on with the show.  
**

* * *

The small group of men left the stables and proceeded North at an alarming rate. The moon was setting over their left shoulder, but darkness still had a firm grasp over the day. Jareth led the party dressed all in black atop a black stallion. Had the way not been lit by a glowing ball above their heads, he would not have been seen. They raced over the landscape and down the well worn path in silence. Any other horse would have dropped under the ride, but these horses were bred for the distance running and covered the distance with no problem. In a little under two hours the party was climbing up the mountains and into Torin Pass. The air was thick with fog and it was eerily quiet. The horses flicked their ears and stamped their feet in unease. Though their eyes were of no use, a smell assaulted them as they came into a clearing.  
A few men gagged, Didymus covered his mouth and nose with a hand, and Jareth's lips tightened into a thin line. There was death on the air. The metallic sharpness of blood reached their senses and it was overpowering.  
The fog cleared with a wave of Jareth's hand and a gruesome scene was revealed. Bodies littered the ground. There were several women cowering in a tent, men scattered throughout the camp, and one small boy had been slain as he hid behind a carriage. Even the horses had been butchered.

Several men could be heard gasping for breath, but Jareth did not pay them any attention. He dismounted and walked a little closer to the destruction. Didymus yelled some command to the men, but Jareth did not hear. He was busy walking towards two men lying in the dirt. As he approached them, Jareth could see both men had been pierced straight through the heart and both apparently dragged to this final resting spot. One was fair haired, the other dark, both faces frozen in anguish. Jareth leaned down and gently touched one of his lords. There was no life there. He touched the other and found the same. He stood as Didymus approached him and handed him an arrow shaft.

"The lookout was taken first. It looks like there was no warning. They were dragged from their tents still in their night clothes." Didymus let his gaze linger on Stivin and Brynt for a moment and then back to Jareth. "The men are looking around, seeing if there are any survivors."

Jareth dropped the arrow into the soft blood stained dirt. "There aren't."

Didymus was of the same opinion, but the men had needed something to do rather than stare at the carnage.  
"What do you want to do with the bodies?" Jareth stared at Stivin and Brynt, but did not utter a word.  
It seemed to Didymus that his thoughts lie far away in the distance. He cleared his throat, wishing the smell would abate. "Jareth?"

Jareth did not reply. Instead he raised a hand over his head. As he did, a bright light burst into the clearing, brighter and purer than sunlight. The light filtered down to the ground and the blood was removed, then the torn and broken tents vanished and then lastly the two dead lords were lifted off the ground. The light encased them and in one final flash the light and all the bodies disappeared. The clearing was as it was once was, no smell, no sight remained of the deaths. Jareth dropped his hand and sighed as he looked over the now pristine clearing.

"Where did you send them?" Didymus asked softly.

Jareth gave him a sideways glance, but instead of replying mounted his stead. "This was too organized for brigands.  
Send out some scouts and search the surroundings for any clues." Didymus nodded and Jareth continued, "Send out for Piertre; I want him in Dorensae by midday tomorrow." Again Didymus nodded. Jareth turned towards the South. Even though he could no longer see the scene he had just witnessed, it was burned into his memory. The horse stomped impatiently. The beast had the right of it; Jareth needed to leave this depressing place. He turned in his seat. "I'll see you in the morning," was all he said and then let the horse go.

The ride was soothing in that it allowed Jareth to face the fact that two of his kind had passed on; never to return. Though not overly close with Stivin and Brynt, they were brethren and the shock of their deaths had not left him. His kind did not die; did not cease to exist. It was hard to fathom the truth that he would never talk to the men again, never see them again, but when he had touched them no sign of their soul was present. There was no magic left in them, it had drained from them like the blood from their bodies. It seemed he was thrown into a blackness of despair, darkness was all around him. He leaned into the horse and whispered a few words. The beast took off with a new burst of speed and very soon the castle in the center of the labyrinth was in view.

After handing his stallion to a stable hand, Jareth stepped away and reappeared in the threshold of his chambers. It seemed an eternity since he had left the room, not just hours, but the fire still roared in the sitting room. There was no sight of Sarah though, and that sent a shiver down his spine. He kept his steps steady and stepped fully into the room. On the sofa, where he had left her, Sarah slept. She had found a light blanket and curled on her side. A few strands of black hair had fallen in her face and he found himself standing before her brushing it away. Her eyes fluttered open and focused first on his hand still on her cheek and then up to his eyes. Jareth moved around the sofa and stood before her as she sat up.

Sarah knew something was wrong still. It was written all over his face and his eyes held a deep sorrow that she had never seen before. It nearly broke her heart and she grasped his hand, "What happened?"

He sat next to her with a deep sigh. "Lords Stivin and Brynt have been killed."

Sarah's mouth fell open a little. She may be new to the world here, but dead lords did not sound like a good thing. "And...and is that why you..." she shook her head looking for the right word for what she saw earlier.

Jareth sat back, eyes dark. "I have never known an Immortal to die the way they did." It was painful to remember it; like a piece of him had been ripped apart. He didn't understand if it impacted him so because he was king, or just Immortal alike. Sarah was watching him and he turned towards her. "We do not *die* like that."

"But you die?" Sarah was confused. "You said Immortal...I don't understand."

Another history lesson. "We are eternally reborn, our souls never die...but Stivin and Brynt...there was nothing there." His voice trailed off to a whisper and he closed his eyes. Sarah's soft touch against his face forced them to open and he was met with tender green eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jareth. Really, I am." She moved her hands from his face and pulled him into an embrace. She half expected him to pull from her, but he did not. Instead he rested his head on her shoulder. Somewhere in the distance a clock chimed the hour. It was surprisingly four and Sarah found herself yawning. Jareth pulled away from her and eyed her in a curious way. Like he was trying to decide something. At the same time she felt that presence again, gentle and mild.

Jareth also felt the Labyrinth's presence, but it was much calmer now than it had been for days. Exhaustion was creeping on him, but he did not want to be alone. Just thinking about it made him remember the emptiness of Stivin and Brynt. He was afraid of being alone, afraid he would become like them, though deep down he understood it was a ridiculous fear. That been said, his thought process was a little fuzzy after not sleeping for half a week. Sarah yawned again and Jareth stood and extended a hand to her. She looked at it for a second before hesitantly placing a hand into his. As soon as Jareth felt her hand, he pulled her up and into his arms. They stood like that for a moment, face to face, and hand to hand, bodies pressed against each other. "Stay here," the words were out of his mouth before he realized he was going to utter them, but what was said was said. He waited for her to pull away, but she did not.

Sarah thought about what he said and how he said it. There was nothing sexual about his request, it was something else, but it still unnerved her. She looked up into his eyes and saw a little of what he was thinking. Those oddly mismatched eyes only ever told the truth to her, and the truth that she saw was simple. He *needed* her to stay.

A little nod was all he felt against his chest as she held him tight. The heavy feeling that had followed him since first hearing the bell was lifted and he wrapped his arms around Sarah tightly. With very little effort, and a little magic, they appeared in his room. A few candles burned on a nightstand, but the room was mostly cast in shadow. Sarah's breath caught in her throat for a moment as the situation really settled in. Maybe it wasn't too late to reconsider this. Jareth seemed to know exactly what she was thinking and he gave a her a smile that almost dared her to bolt. Instead, she gathered up what little courage she had and climbed into the massive sized bed and snuggled under the heavy comforter. This room was much colder without a fire. Jareth approached the bed,  
and at the same time the candles snuffed out. Sarah held her breath and stayed very still as the bed moved ever so slightly under his weight. She didn't know if he could hear her heartbeat, but it pounded against her ribs. She felt him slide under the comforter, and then there was no other movement. Nothing, it was like he wasn't even there. She turned to her side in confusion. Though the room was dark, she could tell he was watching her. She reached out and her hand fell on a bare shoulder. She snatched it back and heard Jareth sigh. It was a sigh she was beginning to equate with weariness. Sarah bit her lip and then made a small movement towards Jareth. He did not move, but merely watched as she edged closer to him until she was so close her hair tickled his face. She laid her head down on his shoulder and he felt her swallow, something he noticed she did when she was nervous. It made him smile. "Sarah?"

"Yes?" her voice was meek and tiny.

"Go to sleep." Jareth let the smile stay on his lips as he lay his head back on his soft, feather pillow. His eyes had just closed when Sarah's voice broke the silence.

"Jareth?"

He didn't open his eyes, "Hmm?"

"Goodnight."

Although he hadn't realized it was there, the tension in his body released and he found himself truly relaxing. "Goodnight Sarah."  
That was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him.

* * *

Didymus woke early the morning after returning to Dorensae. The scouts had found nothing of importance, and that bothered Didymus. There was something conspicuous in the absence of evidence. A messanger had been sent out for Piertre like Jareth ordered, but sometimes the man was hard to locate. As well he should be, for he was usually deep undercover; Jareth's little spy. Didymus ate a light breakfast and drowned a cup of tea as the sun finished rising. The other lords would be waiting for Jareth, but Didymus had not spotted his king. He decided to search for him, so he found himself passing the guards on the fourth floor and entering the Royal Chambers. Didymus frowned as he stepped through the archway and into the study. Jareth was usually awake by now and working at the desk. The room was oddly quiet; there weren't even any candles lit, the only light filtering in through the door behind him. Didymus teetered on the edge of uncertainty. On one part, he rarely ventured further into Jareth's chambers; on the other, after the deaths of Stivin and Brynt...Didymus shook his head. He wouldn't think like that. Nothing had happened to Jareth. But now that the thought had entered his head it was hard to shake it off. With a deep breath he passed through the office and into the sitting room. It too was dark, though a few wooden logs smoldered in the fireplace. Didymus passed through this room and into the bed chambers. At first, he didn't know what to think. It could have just been a trick of the eye, but he looked closer. There, in the bed together, was Jareth and Sarah. He must have made a noise that he was unaware of, for suddenly Jareth's eyes snapped open. Didymus had seen Jareth mad before, but had never seen him look like this. Jareth pointed to the outer rooms and mouthed one single word: 'Out.'

Didymus retreated into the office. He had just turned around to wait when Jareth appeared before him dressed in clothes of black. Didymus tried to speak, but Jareth advanced on him, grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against a wall, his feet left dangling.

"You will speak of this to no one, do you understand me?" Jareth spoke through clinched teeth, his voice quiet, but deadly.

Didymus was truly afraid. Jareth's eyes had a tendency to glow red with fire when he was mad, but right now even the usually blue and green irises were red and orange and he could feel the anger radiating off him in waves. He tried to utter something, but Jareth shook him tight.

"Do you understand?"

Didymus choked out the first thing that came to mind, "Do you think so little of me?"

Jareth seemed to return to his senses. The harsh red and orange in his eyes faded away to the normal blue and green.  
He released Didymus, who dropped to the floor and rubbed his throat. Jareth stood there in what he could only assume was shock. He had lost control so easily, had lashed out at Didymus without considering any consequence. And now, what did he say to remedy the situation? Jareth met the betrayal in Didymus's gaze and slowly blinked. "Didymus..." His voice faded away. There really was nothing to say. Well, he did admit the possibility that he could apologize, but his pride was too great. Instead, the two men faced each other in an uneasy silence until Jareth's mantle clock chimed the hour.

Didymus took a deep breath and straightened. Obviously there was not going to be a discussion about this incident. He decided to focus on the original reason that brought him to the suite. "Lady Emma and the other lords were prepared to hear from you this morning."

Jareth nodded, "Yes, I shall be in the throne room shortly."

Didymus took that as a dismissal and bowed low, backing away and turning. He only got a few feet before Jareth's voice called back out to him. He turned to view Jareth and bowed again, "Your Majesty?"

Jareth recoiled at the title. Didymus never spoke to him so formally in private, and he never bowed before either. It was then that Jareth realized he had broken a bond between the two of them. No longer was Didymus on nearly equal footing to him, where Jareth had always placed him, but now his actions had forced Didymus to step away. They were no longer equals, and Jareth wondered if they were still even friends. The realization hurt more than he wanted to admit, but he was at a loss of how to repair it. Instead, he relied on his years of training and pulled a tight mask over his expression and came up with a question, "Has Pierter arrived yet?"

"No, Your Majesty. I shall notify you when he does, though."

Jareth nodded, "Very well."

Didymus bowed again and quickly left the room. He did not want to stay in Jareth's presence anymore. He did not want to feel the loss of a great friend and he fled without looking back.

Jareth watched his second flee and did nothing to stop him. He leaned his back against a wall and pounded a fist against it.  
"Damn." For the first time in many days he had actually slept and this was not what he had wanted to find upon waking. He pushed away from the wall and entered his bedroom where Sarah was still sleeping soundly. He watched as her breath made her chest rise and fall and wondered why he had reacted the way he did to Didymus's innocent intrusion. With a sigh he sent Sarah back to her room, but he stayed and lingered a moment longer. The truth of the matter was he knew a great change was taking place in the Underground. Something was shifting and he knew that somewhere in the future Sarah was going to be pulled away from him. He didn't know how he knew, maybe it was the whisperings of the Labyrinth, but he knew, and he was going to do anything he could to hold on to her for a little longer. "So much trouble for such a little thing," he found himself saying aloud. With a shake of the head he vanished from the room.

* * *

**Hmmm, I wrote this and even I feel sorry for Jareth and Didymus. Ah, foolish, stubborn pride. I'm going to have to see if I can fix that. Please respond. Oh, this is all leading somewhere, I promise. **


	11. Things Fall Apart

Jareth entered the throne room and was confronted by all sides. Emma, Ovster, and Tarrence began speaking to him all at once. Their individual questions merged into one jumbled mess and he grimaced inwardly. He raised a hand and the babble ceased. Though eager for news, his Lords were by no means stupid. Their faces were anxious and he spoke right away, but with a sad heaviness in his voice. "As the bell forewarned, there have been Immortal deaths."

Emma gasped. "Deaths?" She searched Jareth's eyes, but finding no comfort there shuddered,"Both of them?" Blindly she felt for a chair and nearly collapsed into it.

Ovster looked at Emma with pity and sighed. "Well, may their next life treat them better."

Jareth hesitated, but then replied, "They will not return."

A heavy silence fell into the room and Emma's eyes grew angry, "Do not say such things!" She forgot a moment to whom she was speaking and raised her voice to a yell.

Jareth merely rubbed his temple with a gloved finger. "There was nothing left of them."

Now Ovster chimed in. He waved his hands in agitation, "Jareth, be reasonable. We do not just fade away! We are the Immortal."

"The fact remains the same whether or not you choose to believe, but *I* know the truth." Jareth's voice cut away any other argument. Emma's eyes misted over and Ovster grabbed a chair next to her and clumsily sat in it.

Only Tarrence remained standing with the king and he turned to ask, "Why? Why would they not return?"

Again the room fell in silence. Jareth took a deep breath and watched the lords before him. "Murder,"  
he said clearly. "I think it was because they were murdered. It was an unnatural passing."

They spent the remainder of the morning discussing the scene in the clearing and then what would become of Stivin and Brynt's holdings. It was decided that, for the time being, the three remaining lords would assume responsibility for lands that bordered their own. Jareth was uneasy with this proposal. Torin was surrounded both by Fenra and Laslo and Tarrence would be gaining much territory from the arrangement. It had also been Tarrence to suggest the solution, and maybe Jareth was being irrational, but ever since Tarrence had brought those slave girls into Dorensae he had become wary of the Lord of Torin.

But in the end, Jareth acquiesced. Ovster then suggested they return to their lands immediately, an idea seconded by Tarrence. This Jareth approved whole heartedly. He was tired of having all the lords, especially Tarrence, in Dorensae. Emma, however; decided to stay. Her mate, Sajal, still remained in Cordel and there was no reason for her to rush away. Besides, she had a few things left to discuss with Jareth. They both watched as Tarrence and Ovster took their leave and prepared for their departure.

"So, now what happens?" Emma said softly.

Jareth looked down at her as she sat in the chair, hands folded in her lap. He took a deep breath. "Now, we move forward."

Emma nodded and pushed her long hair out of her face, "I've been thinking, Jareth, about these goblins." She paused to see if he was at all interested, and when his eyebrows rose she continued. "Maybe there's a pattern that we aren't seeing..."

"A pattern?" Jareth sat in the chair Ovster vacated. "What kind of pattern?"

"I'm not sure. Do you keep records of them?"

Jareth sighed. He hated those papers that each day grew larger in number. "Yes, they're in my office. Would you like to see them?"

Emma's eyes lightened considerably. She needed something to do, something to take her mind off Stivin and Brynt. "Very much so."

Jareth stood and extended Emma a hand, which she graciously accepted. Together they walked out of the throne room and down the many corridors and up the flights of stairs that separated the lower levels of the castle from the upper levels. All the time, there was a light conversation. Though Emma wished to speak to Jareth about the strange Lady Sarah, she sensed this would not be a good time and refrained from mentioning her. As they rounded a passage, Didymus came into view approaching them.

When nearer, he bowed to them both and then straightening began to speak. "You wished to know of his arrival, Majesty."

Jareth's eyes narrowed, but he managed to keep his temper. Didymus was only playing the game by rules that Jareth himself had implemented. He nodded to Didymus and turned to Emma, who watched with poorly concealed curiosity. "I'll send the papers down to you, Emma. Would that be satisfactory?"

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly. "Of course. I think I shall go to the garden, seeing I'm so close." Jareth acknowledged this and then continued down the hall and disappeared around a corner. Didymus began to walk away, but Emma grabbed him by the elbow. "Wait. What was that all about?"

Didymus shook his arm loose and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really!" She scowled at him. "Didymus, I have known you your entire life! And Jareth, for that matter. You can't pretend that something wasn't off just now. I've never heard you speak to each other in that matter before!"

Didymus didn't meet her gaze, instead he began slowly walking down the hall, Emma beside him.  
"Its nothing, Emma."

She heard the sadness lingering in his voice and frowned. "Is he mad at you?" The idea was ridiculous. As long as she'd known Jareth and Didymus, Didymus was one of the few close to the king that never managed to incite Jareth's wrath, which was considerable.

Didymus smirked. Emma didn't know the half of it. Mad? No, Jareth wasn't "mad" at him, he had just about decapitated him, but he would not say so to her. He shook his head, "Leave it alone, please, Emma. If you mention it to him," at this he stopped and stared her straight in the face, "like I know you're tempted to do, you will just make it worse."

She tapped her slender fingers against her mouth and thought for a moment, leaning against a hall wall. "Maybe, if you apologized?" She knew it was a bad suggestion the moment she said it, for Didymus's face turned harsh and angry. "Ah, so it is he that needs to apologize, is that it?"  
She took Didymus's silence as an affirmative and pushed away from the wall sighing, "It won't ever happen. Its not in his nature."

At this Didymus laughed. "Don't I know it." He flashed Emma a smile, "Look, I appreciate this, I really do, but I've work to do." He was surprised when Emma stepped forward and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. His hand touched the spot on its own accord and he found himself stuttering for something to say.

Emma just gave a small, breathy laugh. "Honestly, Didymus. Somethings never change." She began to leave him and walk towards the balcony garden when she paused and looked back at him still standing in the hall. "He won't stay mad forever, you know that, right?" Jareth's moods were constantly changing; it was one of his worst traits, and it was also one of his more predominant.

Didymus sighed, but a grin started to grow on his lips. "Yeah, I know."

"Good." With that, Emma turned back around and made her way to the balcony. She hoped that whatever had come between Jareth and Didymus was settled soon. Didymus served more than just Jareth's second in command. In her opinion, Didymus was Jareth's humanity. He was what kept Jareth from being a tyrant, something he was easily capable of doing. She loved Jareth with all her heart, for he was a brother to her, but the man was frighteningly powerful. With one thought he could rule the Underground with an iron fist and none of the other Immortals would be able to stop him. Not with their current numbers anyway. That was another bothersome thought.  
As far as she knew, no Immortals had been born recently. And with Stivin and Brynt dead their numbers were dwindling. She pushed the thought away as she entered the balcony garden. She had enough to worry about without borrowing trouble. The sun was bright, the air refreshing,  
and so she sat on a bench in silence waiting for the goblin papers to arrive.

* * *

**Short, I know. But with school and all I think the chapters will be shorter for now on. Next chapter: Jareth and the mysterious Piertre. **


	12. The Flame Within

**And on with the show.  
**

* * *

Jareth entered his office with the full expectation of seeing Piertre waiting patiently.  
However, Piertre rarely did anything that Jareth was expecting and as he walked into the room he sighed. At first sight, Piertre looked nothing like a being who had been alive for centuries. In fact, he looked like a small boy, maybe around ten years old.  
He was a thin thing with bony knees and elbows and was always dressed in torn clothes or rags. His sandy blonde hair was constantly in disarray. Jareth often wondered why one of mixed blood would choose such an appearance, but it worked well for Jareth's purpose.

But at this moment, the delightful gleam in Piertre's eyes was that of a young boy, not a valuable spy. Piertre sat on top of Jareth's desk, scattering papers and knocking other things over, holding a glass jar. As Jareth stepped closer, Piertre smiled broadly. "Look, look what I have found." He held the jar up and Jareth peered inside.  
A small fairy glared balefully back, her wings tight against her back.

"Why Piertre, what in the world are you going to do with a garden fairy?" Was all Jareth could say as he sat in his chair.

Piertre tapped the jar which agitated the fairy. She started screaming at him in a language that Jareth was only vaguely familiar with. Even so, he was able to pick out a few words that he would never repeat. Piertre smiled again and placed the jar into a bag hanging from his hip. He spun on the desk to face Jareth, a new seriousness on his face. "So, Majesty, to what do I owe this honor?"

The switch in personality was something Jareth was prepared for. "You are aware of the Immortal deaths?" Piertre nodded and Jareth continued. "I want you to find out who is responsible." Something flickered across Piertre's eyes, something like fear.  
Jareth focused on the boy and frowned, "Or do you already know?"

Piertre fidgeted under Jareth's scrutiny. He bit his lip and twisted on the desk before finally replying. "I might have an idea, but it would require more proof."

Jareth's eyes widened, "Well? Tell me what you know!"

"Ah...I would rather not," came Piertre's response. He didn't know how it happened, but one moment he was sitting on the desk, the next he was held from his ankle out of a window. The castle walls were far below him and he got a wave of vertigo. He craned his neck around to see Jareth leaning out of the window grasping him by the foot. "Your Majesty! Please!" Piertre begged.

Jareth had no real intention of dropping Piertre, but sometimes it was necessary to remind his subjects of their rightful place. The fear in Piertre's voice was proof enough that the point was made and he pulled the boy back into his chambers,  
dropping him unceremoniously on the ground. "You would do well to remember just to whom you are speaking, Piertre."

Piertre righted himself, but remained sitting on the floor looking at Jareth's polished black boots. "Your majesty," he began nervously, "let me continue on my work. I have nothing of value just at this moment. Only hunches." At this he dared to glance up, but was startled when he saw Jareth crouching down to his level.  
Piertre swallowed nervously, "You wouldn't want incorrect information, would you?"

Jareth rolled his eyes and stood in one fluid motion. What he wanted was answers and some competency, but it appeared he was stuck with Piertre. "You have one week then, Piertre, to find something of importance to me. Otherwise, my patience with you will have reached an end."

It wasn't the first time Jareth had threatened him so, but it was the first time where Piertre believed that Jareth would act on it. He nodded, "Yes, Majesty.  
I will not fail you." Piertre got slowly to his feet and began backing away from his monarch. It was not easy having Jareth for a king, and Piertre wished that Didymus had been present on this meeting, like he usually was. He was not about to question the absence though, and bowed low to Jareth before exiting the suite.

Jareth watched Piertre go and sighed. He shouldn't have lost his temper. He brushed his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. His eyes rested on the bed and he found himself lightly touching the side where Sarah had slept. Sarah.  
He was utterly fascinated with the green eyed girl. Even when dealing with the kingdom affairs she was not far off from his mind. The thought of her brought a smile to his lips and he turned to seek her out.

* * *

Sarah woke to the sun's rays dancing on her face. It took her a moment to realize where she was, for she certainly remembered falling asleep somewhere entirely different than her bedchambers. Her cheeks colored slightly at the thought.  
Had she really just spent the night with the king? It hadn't been a dream, she was sure of that, but she just couldn't wrap her thoughts around it. Why her?  
She got out of bed and ventured toward her vanity and began brushing her hair still lost in thought. She also vividly remembered a certain kiss, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest at the memory. It was all so strange. She had only known Jareth for such a small amount of time, and yet she was drawn to him; a moth to the flame. She cringed and stared at her reflection. That never worked out very well for the moth, did it?

Her thoughts were diverted when a small knock came from her chamber and a maid entered with a tray of food. The maid curtsied and left again. Sarah shook her head. The servants in this place were odd, even if she didn't have a basis for comparison. she shrugged and ate the breakfast and then dressed in a green fitted dress with beautiful brocade in the front. From what she could see through her window it was a beautiful day, and she planned on enjoying it.

It was easy finding the balcony garden, that was nothing difficult now. But she was surprised to see Lady Emma seated on a bench, a stack of papers encircling her.  
Sarah's approach went unnoticed until her shadow fell over the paperwork and Emma lifted her eyes at first in annoyance, and then in pleasant surprise.

"Sarah, good morning."

Sarah smiled, "Good morning, Lady Emma." She gestured to the mess of paper, "What is all this?"

Emma sighed and lowered the record in her hand. "Goblin records. I'm looking for some connection, any connection."

Sarah sat next to Emma and leaned over to inspect the paperwork. Oddly enough, she was able to make out the script, but she frowned. "You don't know what you're looking for?" Emma shook her head. "Do you need any help?"

Emma smiled. "I would love some. Here, let me explain some of this to you." And so Emma instructed Sarah on the records. On each paper was a date, a name, race, and location of the incident, as well as the parental records. Once Emma was sure that Sarah was comfortable deciphering the records, they split the paperwork and began their investigation.

Several hours passed, the sun was past its zenith, and both women were still reading records. Finally, Sarah noticed something. She flipped through the paperwork and confirmed her suspicion and spoke. "I think I've found something here."

"Really?" Emma said surprised.

Sarah handed her a stack of papers. "Look at this, look at the dates." Emma did so and nodded. These were all very early cases. Then Sarah pointed at the race, "And look here." Again Emma looked, but this time failed to see the importance and shook her head. Sarah sighed, "At the beginning, only children with very little Immortal blood were being changed, but now look." She passed more modern records to Emma, who gasped. "See?"

Emma most certainly did see. At the beginning of the disease only babies, newborns with very little mixed blood were affected. But now it seemed indiscriminate. The changes were happening dispite the ratio of ancestry. "Its getting worse."

Sarah nodded, "Look here, too, at the ages. A child last week celebrated its second year, and it was still transformed."

Emma paled. "This isn't good." She stood and several papers fell from her lap to the floor. "We need to tell Jareth about this."

"Tell me about what?" Said a voice coming from the shadows.

Both girls jumped at the sound and then relaxed as Jareth approached them. He saw them both with papers in their hands and he gestured for them. When he looked closely he quickly came to the same conclusion and groaned. "I haven't been looking close enough at these."

"But, now, maybe something can be done, right?" Sarah asked quietly.

It was Emma who responded, "Like what? We know who, but not why or how."

Jareth met Sarah's eyes and her heart fluttered. He gave a little grin and turned towards Emma who was starting to pace. "Emma, we can only do that which we can do."

She stopped and her mouth fell open a little. "What kind of advice is that!?" She resumed her pacing, "Should I tell that to the countless mothers that bombard me day after day begging the return of their children?"

Jareth watched her in disapproval. There was nothing he could do, even with this new information, he still had no idea what was happening to the citizens of the Underground. Yes, it bothered him, but he was not the kind to dwell on matters he could not affect.

Sarah noticed a hardening of Jareth's face. It was an expression she dearly hoped he would never direct towards her, but she felt pity for Emma. "Emma," she said quickly before Jareth had a chance to speak, "Maybe Sajal will have an idea."

Emma calmed down and turned towards Sarah. "Yes, that is an idea." She took a deep breath and shook her head at Jareth, "Excuse me, but I think I will send him a message." When Jareth did not object, she turned away.

That left Jareth and Sarah alone on the balcony. The same balcony where the night before they had kissed. Sarah blushed at the memory and began picking up a few papers that had flown from the piles. The king had not really said anything to her, and she was nervous in his presence today. Jareth noticed this, and sat casually on the bench. With a wave of his hand, all the papers disappeared. He laughed as Sarah blinked in confusion. "Come sit by me for awhile; I've had a tiresome morning."

She did as she was told, but couldn't quite match his gaze. His eyes were too powerful, even though right now they sparkled in amusement. She also left a space between them which caused Jareth to laugh again. Out of nowhere her temper flared, "Do I amuse you?"

Jareth sobered slightly. He hadn't meant to upset her, but this side of Sarah intrigued him. He had never heard her speak with harshness before. He smirked at her, "Sarah, I do not mean to upset you, but yes, you do amuse me." And confuse him, entice him, and basically draw him towards her, but he did not say these things aloud.

"Was that a form of apology?" She asked sarcastically.

"Hardly," came his instant reply. He sighed, "Sarah, I do not wish to quarrel with you; I came here to enjoy your company." At this he moved a piece of hair away from her face and was pleased when she did not move away.

"You have a strange way of showing it," she muttered as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. He laughed softly and Sarah opened her eyes to see his face close to hers. With one movement he was kissing her again and Sarah forgot everything else. He pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss,  
she found her hands running through his silky hair and felt his arms wrap around her. She didn't know how long it lasted, but knew it wasn't long enough.  
He pulled away from her and she felt a pain inside her chest, near her heart. Their faces where still close together, she could feel his breath on her cheek,  
and for some reason, she could feel his indecisiveness. It radiated off him. "It feels like a dream, doesn't it?" She whispered suddenly.

He pressed his lips gently against hers again, but only for a moment before speaking. "You know the problem with that?" Sarah swallowed and met his eyes. She could drown in them if she wasn't careful. There were so many secrets there, so many things she couldn't understand, and she couldn't find her voice, so she just shook her head. "You awaken, and the dream leaves you alone."

She didn't know what to say. She knew what she felt though. She knew that she never wanted to leave him, never wanted to be parted from him, but how did she convey that? For that matter, how did she even know if he felt the same towards her. Well, that answer should have been clear to her, but at the moment it escaped her. A deep sigh brought her out of her reverie and she focused on Jareth's face again. It was then that it hit her, she loved him. From the deepest parts of her soul, she loved him. "Don't think like that." She said firmly.

Jareth smiled at her. He couldn't understand what it was about her, and maybe he didn't want to. But he still felt that their time together would be short; a flame that burned bright and died quickly. Without thinking, he clutched at her and pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap. She looked at him in confusion, but did not object; instead, she rest her head on his chest. There was so much light within her and he needed it. She called out to him from somewhere deep in his soul and for the first time, Jareth, the High King, needed to believe in something more powerful than himself. He didn't know what that was exactly, but he needed to believe in it. Foolish man, he thought to himself. Love is that which is stronger than you. This was perhaps the truest thing he could have said to himself, for it brought to light the fact that he loved Sarah. The admission startled him, and he knew could not bring himself to say such a thing aloud.

They sat like that for a while longer, neither saying a word. It seemed much of their communication did not require speaking. The door opening into the balcony was what startled them and Sarah jumped up and away from Jareth. Jareth remained sitting, but turned to see who had intruded on them. A page was seen coming around a corner, a sealed envelope in his hand. When he spotted the monarch he made a bee line towards him, bowed and handed him the letter. Jareth waved the page off, and preceded to open the letter. Sarah relaxed and sat next to him. Jareth read the letter, and first his face was passive, then confused, and then disgusted. The parchment smoldered and then fell from Jareth's grasp in pieces.

Sarah lightly touched Jareth's arm. "What happened?"

Jareth smirked at her. "Its nothing, really. Just normal demands that I'm in no mood to deal with right now." His arm encircled her waist, and a very mischievous grin graced his face. "And you know what?" She shook her head, but was smiling at him. "I'm not going to." And with that statement, both disappeared from the balcony.

* * *

**Ta-da! Well, next chapter Tarrence resumes his evilness. What does this mean? You'll have to read to find out. ;)**


	13. Torn Usunder

Torin Manor wasn't exactly a castle. In fact, it was more a mansion where Tarrence held residence. It was lavish though, and Tarrence was pleased to be back after spending so much time in Dorensae. In all honesty, that castle was too big. Not to mention that his every move was watched by someone, but now he was home, and for the moment in blissful solitude.  
After riding most of the day, he had found Torin to be in a bit of a panic; which was expected due to the deaths of Stivin and Brynt. Therefore,  
the rest of the day was spent on state affairs, very boring, but a necessity. Now, however, he found himself sitting in his favorite chair in his chambers thinking over the next move he would make. If it was true about murdered Immortals not returning, he had saved himself a great deal of trouble and severly weakened "King" Jareth.

Baz entered the room a few moments later and noticed the smug look upon Tarrence's face. "Glad to be home, my Lord?"

Tarrence smiled. "Oh yes. And not to be under the scrutiny of Didymus."  
He was quiet and in thought for a moment. Both he and Baz had Immortal blood on their hands, but he had just thought it was a delaying tactic, not a permanent one. This new theory filled him with a strange giddiness. He would win now. Jareth would have no allies. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Did you know, Baz, that Immortals we have killed will not return?"

Baz had known, had thought Tarrence had known, but instead replied, "No,  
my Lord. Surely this is excellent news."

"Yes, it is." He sat back and strummed his fingers on the armrest. He was tired with waiting he realized. It was time to up the ante. He flexed his hands. The blood magic was still strong in him, strong enough for what he wanted to do, but could he do it? Up until this moment he had not killed fully awakened Immortals. And then a truly evil thought crept into his mind. "Baz," he said to the bronze skined man, for he was the person who originally showed him the trick of the blood magic,  
"Can I take an Immortal's blood, like I do the humans?"

Baz shifted slightly, imperceptibly to Tarrence, his heart beating a little faster. "The process is the same, my Lord." Now! Now! Was all that Baz could think. The little lord was starting to understand how the game should be played. Why waste such knowledge on the lesser beings when the strongest magic ran through the viens of the Immortals?  
He forced himself not to smile and rub his hands in glee, but inside he was ecstatic. "A word of caution, though. It will not be the same."

Tarrence frowned, "I should hope not."

"This is not what I mean." The candlelight flickered and cast strange shadows on Baz's face as he approached closer to Tarrence. "You will be destroying their souls, do you understand?" Tarrence deepened the frown into a scowl, but Baz continued. "They are you, you are all connected, if you do this you will not only be tearing their souls,  
but your own. Can you live with that?"

Tarrence was silent. He eyed Baz with a growing distrust. This man before him only ever did what was asked of him, always performed his duties without a word, but right now something was screaming at him that he was a sheep being led to the butcher. But that was absurd. Tarrence was an Immortal, and though he abruptly realized Baz was something else, Tarrence could tell Baz didn't hold half the power he did. He sneered, "It will be worth it, for eventually I will be the only remaining Immortal. The rest will not matter."

A slow and malicious smile spread on Baz's lips and his black, obsidian eyes sparkled. "Well, then, my Lord, you should know what to do."

And oh, how he did. He did not waste another moment, but gathered all his magic and transported himself to the west. The room he found himself was brightly lit with chandeliers and candelabras and every wall was filled with tome upon tome. In the center of the room at a desk sat a thin man; long black hair falling past his shoulders and over robes of silky greens and ivories. Tarrence was only in the room a moment before Sajal realized he was not alone and looked up to see Tarrence stepping away from the entryway.

Sajal frowned and lowered the manuscript he was reading. "Tarrence, I wasn't expecting you this evening." He stood with the most practiced of ease and gestured to another chair. "To what do I have the honor?"

Tarrence did not sit, but instead stood beside the Lord of Cordel, both hands behind his back. "Nothing in particular, Lord Sajal, though I was wondering if you were aware of the new border agreements."

Sajal's blue eyes watched Tarrence warily, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing on end. Before he could react, Tarrence was on him pining him down on the ground. Sajal could not make a sound, could only stare in shock as he watched Tarrence stab a long knife into his heart. He gasped and clutched weakly at Tarrence. Sajal had never thought much of dying, it was an unnatural fear for an Immortal, and right now he still was not thinking clearly of death. Instead, he saw a beautiful blonde haired woman with eyes the color of an autumn sky. "Emma," he breathed out, reaching out for her with any magic he could, but as he pulled for the magic, it was not there. Sajal's eyes tried to focus, but the world was spinning and fading into darkness. Somewhere, far away it seemed now, he remembered Tarrence's presence, but he was growing too weak to think what that meant. "Emma," he tried again to reach out to her. His hand even lifted feebly from his side, but it was in vain.

Tarrence watched as Sajal's arm dropped limply to the ground, the blue in his eyes fading before lids covered them. Tarrence wasted no time. Quickly he slit his wrist and willed the pooling blood into his own. When the crimson liquid mixed with his it was agony. Power raced inside of him, burning every inch of his body. All he could do was lay convulsing beside the dead Immortal and wait it out. Slowly the pain gave way to a new sensation: pleasure. It was as if Sajal's own powers came to grips with its new master and instead of burning through him, purred through him, and caressed him. He rolled over to his knees and watched the last traces of blood flow into veins, panting slightly. The power within him was immense, it felt as if he could barely contain it. He left the room with a laugh that could be heard on the wind, and all who heard it cowered though they knew not what it meant. But Tarrence did. He had found a way at last to become more powerful than all the others. And in this way, he would rule them all.

* * *

**This is short I know, but I was inspired before I went to class. There is a companion chapter coming up. Thank you to all who review, and to all who add me to your update lists. It makes me happy. :) Until next time.  
**


	14. The Lasting Things

**There's some time overlapping here from the last chapter, but this chapter takes place right after The Flame Within and then later during Torn Usunder.  
**

* * *

Sarah felt her world fade and then found herself sitting on a hill underneath the shade of a monstrous oak tree. The air was warm though not stifling, and currently a breeze was stirring the leaves and the long, green grass. It created a song on the wind; an ocean of flora. Sarah looked around in wonderment at the natural beauty, her eyes sweeping left and right. She paused on the sight of Jareth, a few paces away. He stood in the full sunlight, pants tucked into his boots, white shirt loosely fluttering in the breeze. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking to the other side of the hill, a thoughtful expression on his face. She gathered her dress and walked beside him, gasping at the sight before her. It was the Labyrinth, all in its spread out glory. It was massive from this angle, not that it wasn't from the castle, but this was a completely different perspective. The maze literally went on and on before her. In the distance she could make out the castle; tiny in the grips of the labyrinth's coils. Jareth tilted his head towards her and she smiled. "I hadn't realized just how large it is."

Nodding, he gestured towards the maze, "It really is a masterpiece." Though sometimes it left him feeling trapped, the Labyrinth was an intricate part of himself and his world and he did not admire it enough. A shadow crossed over them and they both raised their eyes to the sky. A lone hawk swirled lazily on an updraft, its voice echoing down to them.

Sarah turned slowly in a circle and gazed at the world around her. It was the first time she had been free to do so since she came to this world. The rolling hills they were surrounded by went off for miles, a sea of green. It wasn't until she was out of the castle that she realized how busy and how loud the city was. It was a constant cacophony of sound that she had just tuned out, but this was just the opposite. Here she could hear her own breathing. Jareth's soft gloved hand touched her cheek lightly and she turned towards him a serious look on his face, but with just a touch of that grin she'd come to know.

Jareth had thought Sarah beautiful before, but as she stood in the middle of the plains he realized she was exquisite. She seemed to belong in the Underground. With a touch of his hand he brought her attention back from wherever it had wandered. He offered the same hand and she took it without a word, never letting her gaze waver from his. There was such trust there; he never knew anyone to believe in him blindly. On contact, he took them to another location.

The smell of salt was the first thing that Sarah noticed as the darkness faded from the magical transportation. The next thing was the crashing of waves. Her eyes adjusted to the light and Sarah found herself at the ocean, white sandy beaches extending as far as the eye could see. She smiled madly. It was beautiful. She turned towards Jareth, who was watching her again, that same seriousness on his expression, but also a twinkling of the eye. "Where are we? Do you come here often?"

He shook his head, "Not as often as I would like," he replied truthfully. This beach lay in Sordel, but he rarely ventured this far west to play in the sand. In fact, he realized with an internal frown, he shouldn't be out here at all. He *should* be back at the castle working. But he saw Sarah's happiness at being outside and let the thought pass. After all, wasn't everyone allowed a bit of escapism once in a while?

The rest of the afternoon was spent wandering on the beach. Sarah was excitingly picking seashells from the sand and marveling at their beauty. Once a pod of whales could be seen breaching in the distance. Throughout the day Sarah and Jareth chatted. Nothing groundbreaking, just enjoyable conversation. They mostly just walked up and down the beach though. Every now and again Jareth would brush the hair from her face. Her heart always fluttered when he got so close, and something about that knowing smirk he flashed her told her he was aware of it too. There was only one thing that could have made the day better; she found herself very much wanting to reach up and kiss the king. A few times he would lean into her and she would shiver at the closeness, but he'd just pull her hair back with a lazy hand and smile at her. She recognized the teasing glint in his eyes, but it was honestly driving her a bit insane.

There was a small impromptu lunch of fresh fish, though Sarah was a little disappointed in not fishing, seeing as Jareth just pulled them from the water with a little bit of magic.

As the sun began to set on the water and the shadows grew longer, Sarah found herself leaning against the king as they sat side by side, a smooth rock propping them up. It had been a long day and Sarah wondered if it had to stop. She sighed and felt Jareth stir slightly as he peered down at her, "Are you ready to return to Dorensae?"

"No," she said softly. That mischievousness crept back into Jareth's face and she found herself being pulled up from the ground.

"Good." He extended his hand. "There is one more place I would like to show you."

It was a magnificent wood that she found herself standing in. She took a deep breath in at the sight and just stared in wide eyed wonder. Though the sun was far behind them the wood seemed to glitter and shine with its own inner light. The air was filled with a crispness of a winter morning, but it was not cold. Rather, it seemed the forest held its own warmth. Looking around, Sarah noticed she was in a small clearing; well, the trees had some space between them. She smiled and turned towards Jareth to thank him, but upon seeing him the words stuck in her throat. He was leaning against a tree trunk that her arms wouldn't have reached around watching a moth lazily float in front of him, his arms crossed on his chest. He was shimmering with the same glow as the forest and he was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

There was a rumble in the distance and both heads turned towards the sound. The ground seemed to tremble and Sarah found herself seeking Jareth's presence by the tree.  
He smiled as she stood next to him and slowly put a finger over his lips, but his eyes were not worried as they looked for something in the distance. Sarah was intrigued and followed his gaze. A few moments passed and Sarah was beginning to relax as the wood's natural evening sounds began playing its song. It was all interrupted with a loud crash that caused her to jump. Out of the underbrush, a herd of deer suddenly appeared. They too seemed to glow as they frolicked and pranced in between the tree trunks. Their movements were so graceful and so fast, it was hard to keep track of them. Sarah watched as a large buck with an imperial golden crown of antlers emerged lastly from the dense forest. This buck seemed to walk with purpose and watched over his herd from a far. As he stepped fully into the clearing his narrow head snapped towards the other two occupants. Sarah was afraid they would disappear and was shocked when the buck made a few small steps towards them. It took her a few seconds to realize the rest of the herd had gathered behind the buck, still for the first time. Then the buck lowered his head and the herd followed suit immediately. Sarah turned in time to see Jareth push away from the tree and gave a low bow. As he straightened the herd went back into action, rushing back into the forest. The buck stayed for a moment longer then turned and followed his herd in a stately gait. Sarah was speechless.

Jareth lightly laughed at her expression. "The Ceryneian visit this place rarely; I was hoping you would get to see them."

"They were beautiful," she replied breathlessly. "They seemed to know you." It was a statement and yet also a question.

"There is not a creature in the Underground that would not recognize an Immortal," was Jareth's reply.

Sarah turned to him with an appraising look, "Yes, I could see that. You are all too beautiful," she finished with a whisper.

Something was burning in his soul as he watched Sarah speak. It was a desire so overwhelming that he found himself kissing her and holding her without realizing he had moved. She moved against him and he felt her arms wrap around his neck and he deepened the kiss. The rest of the world could fall apart around them and he realized he cared very little; as long as she stayed where she was, pressed up against him. Carefully, with an arm behind her back for support he lowered them to the forest floor, never once breaking the kiss. His lungs were slightly burning, but the feeling of her lips against his, her tongue lightly touching his, was overriding the desire for air. He did finally pull away from her and looked down at her flushed face. With a finger he caressed her lips and bent down to lightly kiss them. "How am I ever going to live without you?" He whispered into her ear, a touch of urgency lined his voice and caused Sarah to focus on him.

"I would stay with you forever," she whispered back, pulling his body closer.

Jareth made to reply, but suddenly a horrible pain consumed him. His world went dark and he felt ripped away from his body, thrown into a blackness that left him deprived of all his senses. He was in a whirlwind of torture. All he could feel was pain, an all encompassing pain that made him want to disappear. A whispered name came to him, not heard, but felt in the darkness, calling out for someone. It was growing fainter and pulling Jareth further and further down into oblivion. Another voice was crying out to him, but he couldn't quite make out the words. It seemed so far away, but the panic in that voice carried him away from the spiraling nothing before him. It was to this voice that he focused and painstakingly dragged himself up and away from the darkness and back into the light.

He returned to his body and gasped for breath, laying limp on top of a frantic Sarah. His whole body ached as he sat up, and then he stood pulling Sarah from the ground. Her eyes were wide and he could see the questions forming. "Hold onto me," was all he said and as soon as he felt her arms tightly wrapped around his waist he transported them back to Dorensae.

Jareth wasn't sure what he would find. He knew that another Immortal had passed, and he was certain now that he heard Emma's name spoken in that awful blackness, so it was into her chambers that he took them. He was a little careless on the entry; the windows and the heavy wooden doors shattered as his magic flared out. The bells were ringing again and he felt Sarah pull away from him, understanding in her eyes, and then fear as she recognized the surroundings.

"Not...not Emma!?" She frantically searched the room with her eyes, "Not Emma!" She pleaded.

Jareth took a deep breath and pushed out with his magic, sensing for his sister of heart. He prayed she was not the reason for the awful bells. After a quick sweep he found her signature. Alive,  
but barely, and in the next room. He swept into the chamber and saw Emma collapsed on the ground, looking like she had been brushing her hair and readying for bed. He bent down to her and picked her up, placing her limp body on the bed.

Sarah followed suit, "Is she...is she still alive?"

Sighing, Jareth nodded. "I should have known," he said wearily.

Before he could say another word, a frazzled looking Didymus stepped through the destroyed doorway and took quick strides to the Lady Emma. "What happened," he whispered as he held her hand.

"Sajal," was all Jareth said as his eyes turned towards the window. "Stay with her Didymus and do not let her follow him." Didymus turned towards Jareth, a look of shock on his face and Jareth continued, "He was calling out to her on his passing; damn near had me following, I can only imagine what it felt like for her." He closed his eyes against the memory. A small hand was placed in his and he squeezed it gently opening his eyes to meet Sarah's gaze. "Stay here and help Didymus. I'll return when I can." She nodded and he bent down softly kissing her cheek before vanishing from view.

* * *

**This is going to get a little darker now, we're coming close to the end. Btw, school is driving me crazy! K, thanks for reading.**


	15. Sand Through the Hourglass

He knew exactly what to expect upon entering Sordel Keep, but that did not stop him from dreading the actual sight of Sajal crumpled on the bare floor of his study. Jareth pressed his lips together in a thin line and clenched his jaw as he leaned down to inspect Sajal's still form. There was a blade protruding from Sajal's chest, but there wasn't any blood spilt. Jareth narrowed his eyes. That was odd. With an easy grace he situated himself down next to Sajal and reached out a hand to him. On contact Jareth pushed out with his magic and felt the energy in the room. The walls seemed afraid;  
there was no other way to describe it. An unfamiliar residue hung in the very air, but Jareth was not able to pinpoint the source. The only thing he knew for certain was that Sajal's life was gone. There was nothing to bring him back. He pulled his magic back into him and removed his hand from Sajal and took a deep breath. Not another, he thought desperately. Determination set into his face and gave him a hard, calculating look. He stood swiftly. Not another one. With that thought he disappeared back to Dorensae.

* * *

Ovster had been deep asleep when he felt a slight pull from deep within. It wasn't strong, but it was enough for him to open his eyes and glance around the room in dreaded anticipation. The bells started ringing then, and with a deep breath Ovster climbed out of bed. Damn. He pulled a robe over his body and with a spare thought lit the candles in his bedchamber. Another Immortal had passed? How could this be, he thought as he slowly walked to a desk and poured himself brandy from a decanter. In all of his long, long life he had never known anything like this to happen. It unnerved him and he swallowed the liquid down in one quick gulp. He was afraid to discover who had passed; there were only so few of them left now. It couldn't have been Jareth. Ovster wasn't completely sure, but he had to hold on to that belief for his own sanity. With a deep sigh he collapsed in his favorite leather chair. The only thing to do was wait, he'd find out the truth eventually.  
His mind began to wonder and he fell into an uneasy sleep for a moment, but something awoke him. With a start his eyes opened and he looked warily in his shadowy chamber. Someone was there. From the shadows he watched Tarrence walk forward, the darkness melting away from him and Ovster's breath caught in his throat. The energy coming from the man was warped, distorted, but Tarrence just smiled.

"Hello, you old fool."

Ovster licked his lips nervously. "What have you done, Tarrence?"

"Done?" He said with mocked innocence, "Why would you think I have done anything?" When Ovster didn't immediately respond Tarrence laughed. "I'm simply making a few...managerial changes."

"Have you gone mad?" the words were weak and Ovster tried to keep his voice from trembling.

Tarrence tsked him and wagged a finger back and forth, "No, I don't think so. I think I'm seeing everything clearly." He made a step forward and with a flick of his wrist a shiny blade appeared in his closed hand.

Ovster paled. "You'll never get away with it. When the others return they will know what you have done." Tarrence had continued to approach him and had Ovster trapped in his chair.

"Others? When was the last time an Immortal returned, hmm, you old fool?" Tarrence was boasting and he enjoyed seeing the fear and shock in his old mentor's eyes.

"What have you done?" This time Ovster didn't have the strength to keep the fear from his voice and it came out in a hurried whisper.

"Nothing that you will have to worry about any longer," with that last word he effortlessly dropped the blade into Ovster's chest. The man had tried to shield himself, but Tarrence had been too fast. Ovster did not linger like Sajal, but instead just closed his eyes and let out one last breath. Tarrence smiled and was going to start the process of claiming Ovster's magic when a strangled gasp caught his attention. He stepped away from Ovster's body and noted with disdain that the magic was already leaving the blood. He had lost his chance and that made him extremely angry. There was that noise again and Tarrence turned to see a long drape by the window slightly shifting. Narrowing his eyes and using just a small trace of magic he tore the curtain down. Before him, one foot out of the window, one leg still on the ground, was a being that looked nothing more than a street urchin. Oh, but Tarrence knew better. Oh yes, he knew who this was before him. In a blink he was on the spy, pulling him back into the room and pinning him against the wall. "Hello there Piertre. It has been a long time." He sounded all the world like he was being reunited with a friend,  
except he had a dangerous glint in his blue eyes.

Piertre swallowed and tried to keep his breath even, though failing. The raw energy flowing out of the man before him was suffocating his senses. "Lord Tarrence," he responded.

"What shall we do with you?" Tarrence asked leaning far too close into Piertre's face for comfort. He thought for a moment. Leaving Piertre was a liability, but maybe there was a way for him to turn this situation to his benefit. "Do you wish to live?" He asked suddenly seeing Piertre's face go white. Tarrence was pleased when Piertre gave a short nod to the question and he stepped away from the spy. "And are you willing to do something in exchange for your miserable life?"

Piertre hesitated. He did not like the implications. There could only be one thing Tarrence wanted and that would mean going against Jareth. Piertre was deeply afraid of Jareth. His eyes settled on the bleeding body of Ovster and he shivered. Then again, maybe Jareth wasn't the one to be afraid of at this moment.  
With another nod of the head Piertre cast his lot with the devil.

Tarrence claped his hands together with a sort of crazy enthusiasm. "Excellent. Then, I have a message for you to deliver to our most excellent majesty."

* * *

_A little earlier..._

Didymus rearranged Emma more comfortably on the bed and then settled next to her holding her hand in both of his. He noticed Sarah pulling a chair over and biting her lower lip, but he did not engage with her. He was focused only on Emma. Her breathing was even and her features were calm, as if she was in nothing other than a deep sleep, but he knew better. She was in a sort of shock. The Immortals' bonds with one another was not compltely understood by the other inhabitants of the Underground, but Didymus knew one thing. If they chose to bond it was forever, and if that bond was suddenly severed the remaining partner was usually not far off in following. He could not let that happen to Emma.

"Is she going to be alright?" Sarah's soft voice asked.

He didn't look at her. "I don't know. She's still here, there's hope." With heavy eyes he glanced up at her, "I can't help her...maybe Jareth, but there's nothing I can do."

Sarah just nodded and sat back. It was only a few moments before the air gained a sort of heaviness and then dissipated and then standing beside the bed was Jareth, a closed expression on his face as he looked down on Emma. Didymus met Jareth's sorrow filled eyes. "Can you bring her back?"

Jareth winced and then rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "I'm tempted to just let her go."

Didymus couldn't believe what he had just heard. His eyes widened and he stammered, "You can't just leave her like this Jareth!"

"You do not understand," he said through clinched teeth. "What would I be bringing her back *to*?" Jareth began to pace. Even if he did bring Emma back from the half life she was she would never be the same. Jareth was feeling the loss of the Immortals each and every time they were being taken from the world, and honestly he wondered how much more he could take before he snapped and he had not been bonded like Emma. He stopped pacing and closed his eyes, for just a moment. A soft body leaned against his, so he pulled it closer to him, laying his cheek on the top of Sarah's head.

He was about to speak when a now familiar pain crashed down on him. As if removed from himself he distantly felt himself slip to the ground and heard a cry that seemed very far away. The pain was agonizing, and it threatened to drag him under again, but Jareth was getting angry. He understood what was happening now and pulled energy from the Labyrinth and pushed against the blackness. It would not claim him this time. Before he separated himself from that void completely he heard a whisper of a voice, the words couldn't be made out, but Jareth had the distinct impression it had been a warning. With one final effort he opened his eyes and was back with himself leaning against Sarah's form. The bells began chiming in the distance and Emma thrashed weakly on the bed. Jareth began to stand, Sarah still holding on to him by the arms. Jareth stepped away from her, pretending not to see the hurt that flashed through her eyes. He would deal with that later, right now he had other pressing matters.

"Who was it?" Didymus asked as he tried to calm Emma down by making small shushing noises.

Jareth's eyes took on a steely glint. Didymus had seen that look before, but it had been a long time since it had distorted Jareth's face. Without a word Jareth vanished and Didymus began to feel a little more worried for his monarch. The last time Jareth had had that particular look on his face a thousand men died on a battle field. All at once they had suddenly dropped lifeless to the ground, all because Jareth had willed it.

* * *

Jareth barely had any control as he appeared in Ovster's bedchamber and his rage expressed itself by creating a tempest that buffeted the room. He caught sight of Ovster's form in a chair; drooping over the side, crimson liquid blood spilling to the floor. Jareth clinched his fists and was about to leave the room when he realized he was not alone. Cowering in a corner a familiar shape sat against a wall. Stepping forward he recognized Piertre and let out a small growl, "What happened here?" He took one step closer and his voice dropped dangerously low, "And if you lie to me Piertre,  
there will be severe consequences."

The little boy, not the spy, looked up into his monarch's flashing eyes and cringed. He was doomed either way it seemed, but it was always better to die tomorrow than today. That thought brought him a little courage. "Its Tarrence. He's gone insane." He watched shock spread across Jareth's face and then quickly replaced with acceptance so he continued, trying to think quickly. "I came here to warn Ovster, for I knew something of his plans briefly before he struck." It was a lie, but Piertre kept rambling. "I had something to show you, over in the Wastelands. Will you take me there?"

Jareth eyed his spy with disdain. "Now you have something useful for me? A little convenient, is it not?"

For a moment Piertre thought Jareth might have seen through the lies, but then the world faded from view and he found himself in the Wastelands, an endless desert that lie far south of Dorensae. Piertre watched Jareth pace back and forth before him and shrank away from the monarch as he asked, "Now, what is it that you wish to show me?"

Piertre could say nothing. He had thought of this only as a way to distract the king, for that is all Tarrence had asked. 'Give me some time. Make up any silly lie, but keep him from returning directly to Dorensae.' so, Piertre had led them here, now he had no idea what to do.

Jareth could sense a deep unease within Piertre, and a deep dread growing within himself. What was he doing out here, and why was Piertre barely concealing outright terror? He began to ask the same question again when he felt that horrible sensation flow through his body. This time the blackness came no where close to overpowering him and instead of dispair he was filled with rage. He reached down and savagely grabbed Piertre before vanishing from the Wastes.

The sight before him as he reappeared in Emma's chambers was a little confusing and that confusion was the only thing that calmed his temper. On the bed lie Emma; cold and beautiful even in death, for Jareth knew upon entering the room that she was already gone. He could find no trace of her anyway. The room was in shambles, not only from his earlier entry, but from something else. That feeling of dread fell on him again and he looked around noticing Sarah's absence acutely. He saw Didymus sprawled on the floor, a cut on his head and Jareth made a few quick steps to his second. "Didymus," he said giving the man a slight shake of the shoulder, "Didymus, where is Sarah?"

Didymus groaned but managed to open his eyes. Jareth was leaning beside him, worry clearly expressed in his eyes. It was a much better look than he saw earlier. With a little struggle he sat up, the recent events replaying in his mind. "Tarrence was here!" He jumped to his feet. Emma! No, not Emma! The bells were chiming again and Didymus saw the lifeless body of Emma on the bed. He choked back a sob. Not his Emma. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder where Jareth placed his hand.

"Sarah, Didymus." Jareth repeated with a growing sense of urgency. "Does he have Sarah?"

Didymus couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from Emma. It was unnatural. Though a hilt of a blade stood out from her chest, there was no blood. That was fitting, he decided. It would not mar her beauty then. Jareth gave him another shake and Didymus found himself answering as if he were far away. "He must have. I don't know. I barely saw him before he knocked me to the floor." Didymus remembered some of that conversation and he turned towards the spy that sat still in a little ball on the ground. "Why don't you ask *that* one. Tarrence said something about Piertre's "assistance" in this little venture."

Jareth hadn't meant to lose control. He hadn't meant for the air around him to become so charged that it cracked and popped, hadn't meant for the eerie blue glow of his charged magic to surround him, and surely hadn't meant for Piertre's limp form to be thrown from the ground and into a stone ceiling before falling back down with a sickening thud. But he did mean to grab Piertre by the throat as he lifted him from the floor. "Tell me what you have done?" His voice would have startled him had he been listening to it, for it was wrapped in magic and held a deep menace, but Jareth did not hear it. Instead, he continued before Piertre could find his voice, "Beware though, Piertre, for nothing shall save you now."

Piertre accepted the finality in monarch's voice and noted the harsh expression of Didymus a few feet away. There would be no reprieve from that source, so he spoke the truth. "He did not tell me everything, my lord. Only that I was to prevent you from returning here, so that he would have time to finish his plans."

Jareth tightened his grip around Piertre's throat. "What plans?"

Gasping for breath, Piertre struggled in vain. "I don't know, your Majesty."

"Don't know, or won't tell, hmm, Piertre?" Again Jareth squeezed the boy's throat.

Spots were dancing before his eyes, but somehow Piertre managed to squeak out through his constricted windpipe, "Don't...know..." This was it, he felt the life literally being suffocated out of him, and knew it was going to happen for the deep anger in his lord's eyes had yet to vanish. He was going to die, strangled by his monarch for treason. He was ready to accept this when an unlikely voice cut through the air.

"Jareth, reconsider this." Didymus stepped a few feet closer and tried to make eye contact with the king before him.

"Why?" Was all Jareth replied, sneering down as Piertre's face took on a bright reddish hue.

Didymus hesitated. "Because...because this is not how things are done." Jareth's eyes moved from Piertre's face to Didymus' and Didymus continued thankful he had Jareth's attention.  
"You'd be no better," He said softly.

Jareth thought a moment on Didymus' words and as the rationality became clearer his grip loosened on Piertre. With disgust he dropped the spy and stepped away. He calmed as the spy gasped for air and clutched at his throat and felt his magic slowly ebb back down to manageable levels. "Sometimes," he said turning to his second who was also watching the spy with a lip curled, "I quite hate your reasoning, Didymus."

Didymus gave out a small huff of breath. "What are we going to do now, Jareth?"

"For now," he said nudging Piertre with the toe of his boot, "throw this rat in the dungeons."

Didymus nodded, "And you?" He watched in slight horror as that same expression hardened Jareth's face. He may have stopped Jareth from killing Piertre, but there was still a murderous rage boiling beneath the surface and Jareth's eyes were being to smolder.

Jareth clinched his fists at his side. "I am going to get Sarah back." Those were the only words he said before vanishing from view and leaving Didymus alone with Piertre.

Didymus bent down over the boy and saw him trembling. "Oh Piertre, you are an imbecile," he said extending a hand to the disgraced spy.

He weakly accepted it and pulled himself upright, "I know, I know." They both stared at each other in silence for a moment before Piertre lowered his head in exhaustion. "So, to the dungeons?"

"Yes, to the dungeons."

Piertre shrugged and let himself be led out of the room. Imprisonment was certainly better than death. Didymus allowed one final look at Emma before exiting the ruined room and escorting the 'prisoner' down to his cell. He didn't know what the future was going to bring, but he hoped that Jareth found Sarah alive and well, for if she wasn't Didymus was afraid what would happen to the monarch. Please, let her be alright, was all he could repeat to himself.

* * *

**K. This is coming to an end soon. **


	16. Bargaining

**I'm getting impatient with this story, but now I'm determined to finish it. So the next chapters may be abrupt and short, but at least the story will get done. **

* * *

It had been a long time since Jareth had actually visited Torin. It was no secret that he and its lord were never on the greatest of terms, but if it was true and Tarrence was behind the Immortal slayings then the man had lost whatever was left of his mind. Those thoughts flit quickly through Jareth's head as he transported directly to Torin Manor. Jareth looked around in slight shock. He remembered the hall being drab and boring; merely a large room with a chair on a dais and standing room for the congregants. Now, the hall could easily match his own at Dorensae and the original wood decor was replaced with smooth white marble. Drapes hung low from the ceiling in vibrant hues of red and yellow, and at the head of the room was a magnificent thrown; complete with Lord Tarrence.

Jareth shook his head and stepped forward. The magic in the room was palpatble and he could taste the illusion. "Its still just a plain room," he said with utter boredom. At first glance Sarah was no where to be seen, and that bothered him. He proceeded forward and met Tarrence's blue eyes with his own mismatched pair. "You've been rather busy Tarrence. Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you right now." Jareth leaned against a marble column and inspected his glove. On the outside he was concentrating on keeping Tarrence occupied, for Jareth was busy probing the manor for any sign of Sarah.

Tarrence laughed; cold and harsh. "Come on, you Majesty," he said spitting the name out. "Don't tell me you aren't a little bit curious as what I've been up to?" Jareth lifted his eyes and Tarrence grinned. "Just a little?" He held his fingers up to show a small inch.

"Honestly Tarrence, you are trying my patience," Jareth narrowed his eyes, "and I find that a very dangerous thing to do."

The reply was only laughter. "Alright, alright." With a small wave of his hand a tall and narrow cage appeared beside him.

Jareth's eyes widened as he saw Sarah. The cage was not large and it forced her to stand for it enclosed her in a cocoon of metal. Her hands gripped the bars before her tightly and she cried out in surprise when she saw him. He made a step forward only to be stopped by a strange force and then followed by Tarrence's laughter.

"Oh no, no, no, your Majesty." Tarrence wagged his finger at Jareth, "I think she'll be staying with me now. After all, I was the one who originally found her." He reached through the cage and caressed Sarah's face. She flinched, but really had no where to go.

"Do not touch her." Jareth's hands balled into fists and he felt his eyes flicker in anger. With his magic he tried to pull her away, but to his surprise Tarrence stood quickly.

"No!" he turned towards Jareth and with an outreached hand a bolt of pure blackness cascaded down towards the king.

Jareth had very little time to think, but was able to bring up a barrier of his own magic before the attack did more than push him down to one knee. Angrily he stood.  
There was something different about 'Lord Tarrence'. No one in the Underground should have been able to bring Jareth to his knees, but that energy Tarrence released was strong. And tainted. "Blood magic?" He took a step forward as Tarrence's eyes widened. "You've been 'letting them!?"

"Silence!" Tarrence shouted down at Jareth. "You will no longer rule, Jareth," he again spit the name and purposefully did not add the respected title. "I will rule now. With this power," he raised his hands and the black energy crackled through the air. Both Jareth and Sarah watched it, Sarah a little more wide eyed.

Jareth laughed knowing it would rattle Tarrence, and it did. The lord lowered his arms and glared at the king. "Now, let me tell you how things are really going to proceed Tarrence, and you had better pay close attention for I do not want to repeat myself." Jareth gathered as much magic as he dared into his body and let it fill him, bolstering him. "You will return Sarah to me and then you will be executed."

Tarrence sneered. He could feel the power rippling of Jareth, but he knew he could defeat the king. "So confident, and that will be your undoing." With a mere thought the girl and the cage vanished and elicited a growl of anger from Jareth. Tarrence felt Jareth's magic crash down upon him, but Tarrence was stronger and with a grin the dark magics around him vanquished Jareth's.

Jareth stood in shock for a moment before regaining composure. The amount of raw magic that Tarrence commanded was staggering and the first trickle of fear crept into him. As he was he could not defeat him. As he was. Well, Jareth thought quickly, he would have to change that. "So, you want to rule the Underground, do you?"

Tarrence was not expecting that question. He sat and looked at Jareth with evident distrust. Jareth, for his part, once again leaned against a column, looking for all the world like they were having a friendly conversation. The man's calmness frightened Tarrence and all he could do was nod.

"Well, you cannot expect me to hand it over just like that," Jareth snapped his fingers. "See, I know something of this black magic that you are using." Tarrence's eyes widened and Jareth continued, "You must take what you want by force, or you will not gain the power. Isn't this right? It must not be given willingly."

Tarrence was not sure where this was going but again he nodded.

"Then we shall fight for it." Jareth's voice lowered and the room suddenly took on a chill. "We shall fight for all of it."

The situation was quickly spiraling out of Tarrence's hands. He had not wanted Jareth to set the terms for a confrontation, he did not want Jareth feeling empowered at all. With a frown on his face he sought to remedy the situation. "I'll let you return to Dorensae for now, your Majesty. In the morning we shall meet on the Wastes." Tarrence leaned forward. "Do bring your best men, for I think you shall need it when you see my armies."

A look of pure hatred crossed Jareth's face. He was being dismissed by one of his own lords and at the moment there was nothing he could do with it. "One more thing, Tarrence. If Sarah is harmed, or even touched by you, this new power of yours will not protect you." Without hearing for the man's reply Jareth disappeared from the room. But one thought lingered closer to his mind then any other. Tarrence could have killed him then and there and he didn't. Why was that?

Unbeknown to Jareth, Baz was wondering the same thing as he stepped from the shadows the moment the king vanished. He was angry and his black eyes glistened like obsidian, his gold skin shimmering. "You could have destroyed him! Why did you let him go!?"

Tarrence slumped in his thrown and brought a slightly shaking hand up to his temple. Something was warring within. He wanted power, yes, but did he want to kill Jareth? Yes, came the answer, and Tarrence sat still for a moment and asked why. Tarrence's blue eyes took on a clarity that Baz hadn't seen in centuries. "Why are we doing this, Baz? I've forgotten..."

Baz growled in impatience. "No," he said weaving his own magics through his voice. "You haven't forgotten, you've known the whole time. The Immortals are a bane on our existence. Nothing that lasts forever should ever be."

Tarrence tried shaking his head. "But...the Immortals are *my* people."

Baz pushed his magics harder into Tarrence. It had been easier to manipulate him before he had the bright idea to take the Immortals' blood as his own. For some reason it was weakening his hold over the lord. "No, it is just an illusion." He smiled as Tarrence's blue eyes glazed over. "Just an illusion my lord, to keep you from what is yours."

"To keep me from what is mine..." Tarrence parroted with a soft voice.

"That's right. You want the Underground..." Baz felt the last of Tarrence's resistance vanish and he pulled his own energy back.

Tarrence tightened a gloved hand into a fist. "Yes. The Underground will be mine. See the men are ready. We will meet Jareth in the Wastes with a full force."

"It shall be done." Baz held the smile in until he was away from the hall and then he laughed maliciously into the night.

* * *

**ok, I have probably one more chapter before the big battle and then the end will be close behind. yay!  
**


	17. The Beginning of the End

It was felt throughout the Underground, a deep pulling from the very soil itself. Someone was manipulating the magic in the air and twisting it to a very wrong purpose. As the life giving magic was drained an army of shadow warriors slowly climbed from the ground, each a massive shape of horns, and clawed hands clasping weapons that gleamed wickedly in the odd night. Though these warriors knew nothing of _why_ they were called, they knew _what _they were called for and soon their numbers multiplied. An army stood in a valley, all eyes focused on a figure before them. The warriors stomped and growled, raised their arms above their heads and bellowed to the sky, but for all of their impatience their will was tied to the single being before them.

Tarrence looked at his blood soaked hands and a smile crossed his face before settling into a determined expression. He gazed at the army before him.  
The shadow warriors were truly terrifying. They had the heads of monstrous bulls but the body of a man, but the muscles rippling underneath their black skin would be much stronger. They all carried weapons, some axes, some swords, all sharp enough to do what he wanted them to. He had used so much energy bringing them into existence that the recoil was shaking through him. The land was screaming at him, but Tarrence ignored it all. Soon he would have all that he wanted. His second in command stood next to him on the small hill overlooking the army. "They are magnificient, aren't they?"

Baz nodded in appreciation. "They will be an even match for Jareth's army." An echo of a scream floated on the breeze and both men turned their heads to the sky. "This drained many tonight, didn't it?"

"Yes. And it was worth it." Tarrence's eyes were slightly watery and shook in the dim light of torches. "Can you feel it Baz? The magic I use is trying to shape the Underground for me, making it something worth ruling."

"And Jareth cannot do anything to stop it now." Baz slightly tilted his head and regarded the man next to him. "Does this make you happy, now, Lord Tarrence?"

"Nearly so. As soon as Jareth's body is at my feet, then I shall be happy." The creatures below them stirred as one and Tarrence nodded slowly to himself. "Dawn is soon to come Baz, and we must be ready."

* * *

Jareth stood in the heart of the Labyrinth. It was a circular room in the center of his castle and was empty except a single pillar that stood in the middle. That pillar extended down to the very core of the Underground and was the closest one got to 'touching' the Labyrinth. Jareth reached out with all of his might to summon the ancient magic that resided there. He was shaking badly trying to control the anger within him. It seemed that his entire life was being shattered around him. The only two Immortals alive at the moment were about to war against each other, and as much as Jareth loathed Tarrence at this moment, he was still brethren. And much more powerful. He could not hope to save Sarah and the rest of the Underground with his magic at its current level and it angered him further. He would not be brought to his knees by someone who slaughtered the innocent for their blood. He mentally screamed at the Labyrinth and it tentatively touched him back.

"The king is angry..." its whispered voice said.

"And in need of your help," Jareth spoke through clinched teeth. Really, his rage was all encompassing and he was fighting with himself to remain in control.

"Aid can be granted to you...if you shall heal the land."

Jareth nodded. "I will do this, but you must tell me how." Jareth sensed a hesitancy and continued, "What is causing the illness." Jareth got an image of Tarrence surrounded by a black mass that swirled around him. It brought Jareth a moment of shock. "Tarrence is causing this?" Jareth thought a moment and then felt extremely foolish. "Of course. He was using humans, wasn't he,  
before he tried his hand on the Immortals." The Labyrinth gave an affirmative in feeling.

"It has corrupted the magic of this land. Once released it began to feed on energy that was similar to its calling. It has been turning the humans, but soon it will spread to all of the creatures Underground. It is up to you to repair it..."

Jareth was amazed. The Labyrinth had never, in all of his existence, given such straight answers to him. "I cannot defeat Tarrence without your assistance."

Again Jareth felt the Labyrinth resist, but remained silent. The room took on a heavy oppressiveness and Jareth got the distinct impression that the Labyrinth was saddened. Before he could say anything he was assaulted by the Labyrinth's presence. It was urgent and confusing and Jareth rocked on his feet before putting his hand out to steady himself.

"Aid will be given to you, but first you must swear.."

Jareth's head was swimming with strange pictures from the Labyrinth. Owls, a fox, a large fury beast, a smallish man, a maze...he had seen these before, but had not understood them. He still didn't understand them. "What must I do?"

"Swear first!"

The Labyrinth was literally screaming at him, not just verbally but mentally and Jareth found it harder and harder to think. The visions continued to swirl around him and he found himself lost in a blaze of images. "Fine," he finally spit out a little breathlessly. He would do anything to stop the spinning around him.

"Say it!"

Jareth found himself kneeling next to the pillar, one hand on the ground one hand on the pillar itself. He had never felt such power from the Labyrinth and wondered fleetingly if he was making a large mistake. But it was harder and harder to think coherently. "Fine! I swear to you, whatever you ask." Immediately the images stopped. Jareth began to take a deep breath, and as he did a force of magic coursed through his body, so strong that he cried aloud. It was unlike anything he had felt before and he found himself overwhelmed. Surely if it didn't stop he would be consumed and burn away. That was how it felt, like he was being burnt from the inside out. A brilliant white light flashed through the chamber and as it faded the pain ebbed. His self awareness returned and Jareth found himself standing in the middle of the room, a slightly heavy weight resting on his chest. He glanced down and saw a strange pendant lying against his skin. He lifted it and examined it. He took a deep breath. The power from the Labyrinth was in him now, he could feel it pulsing beneath his skin, running through his veins. The Labyrinth's presence no longer filled the room and Jareth frowned. He had a horrible feeling that he made a bargain that in the end was going to cause his ruin. He shook the feeling of. The Labyrinth would never do anything to harm him; he held on to that thought and left the chamber.

* * *

Didymus had been shocked to see Jareth return without Sarah, and even more surprised when Jareth told him of the up coming battle. Didymus had been unable to pry any real information from his king, who had been distracted and left Didymus confused but with a set of orders to waken the men. Didymus did what he was told and for the last hours of the night Didymus had been busy readying the troops and now he saw them gathered on the outskirts of Dorensae. The ground was littered with camp fires and the soldiers were dressed in their finest. Didymus himself was adorned in battle armor; a silver breastplate, shoulder guards, and bracers, his sword hanging from his hip. He surveyed the men again. None really understood where they were going or even who they were battling, but it had not mattered to any of them. All the soldiers were fiercely loyal to Jareth and the Crown and that was all that mattered. The air next to him shimmered and Didymus moved away in cautious curiousity as Jareth appeared in a burst of glitter. Didymus blinked. Jareth had never appeared like that before and Didymus examined his liege closer. Jareth had always been powerful, but now, seeing him in black leather and black armor, a cape flowing down to the ground, and an icy stare in his eyes, Didymus was left with the realization that this person before him was much more powerful than his king had ever been. He found his voice. "Jareth?"

Jareth met Didymus' gaze for only a split second before returning his yes to the army. "The sun rises soon." He stepped away from Didymus, who followed. Wherever Jareth went the men snapped to attention. Didymus was proud of the army. He continued to walk in silence as Jareth inspected the army. There was nothing that Jareth pointed out that needed remedied, and soon both men found themselves at the front of the army, secluded even though a sea of men spread out behind them.

"Where is the battle?" Didymus asked for no other reason than to break the silence. Jareth's presence had never seemed so strange before, almost like Didymus expected him to break into a million pieces right in front of his eyes. It made him nervous and guilty at the same time.

For a moment Jareth did not answer. His thoughts were far away, and it was hard to hold onto one thought for too long. It was almost like his mind itself had become a tangled web, a reflection of the Labyrinth. He forced himself to focus and answered Didymus. "In the Wastes."

Didymus choked back a cry. "The Wastes? Jareth, we will never make it there before sunrise. Is there anyway to cut them off?"

Jareth let a smirk cross his otherwise expressionless face. "He is already there." Didymus paled and Jareth held up a hand to silence him. "Get them ready." Jareth watched as Didymus turned away and shouted orders to the men. The field was filled with the loud sound of several thousands of men stomping and readying for battle. Metal on metal created a sort of sordid song and Jareth listened to it in a sort of haze. Didymus returned, though how long it had been Jareth could not have said.

"We'll never make it." Didymus said under his breath. This time Jareth smiled widely, but it was not a friendly smile. No, it was a cold smile that chilled Didymus to the bone. With a movement from his hand a crystal suddenly appeared resting in Jareth's fingertips. It was another thing that Didymus had never seen before and he wondered what Jareth had been doing while the army was assembled. He would have asked, but Jareth lightly threw the crystal up in the air. It seemed to float for a moment and then it burst and broke into a million shining pieces. It was the last thing Didymus saw before the world turned dark. He didn't know how long it was, but eventually he saw again. The sight was not comforting though. The entire army now stood in the Wastelands and Didymus shivered even though the sands were quite warm. The first rays of morning began to peak over the southern mountains and Didymus caught the first glimps of their advisory. They were creatures that Didymus had never seen before and Didymus could feel the magic radiating off them. He turned to face Jareth.

The sun was rising in true fashion now and Jareth took one step closer to the creatures before him. No matter what, it was going to end here. He unsheathed his sword and held it high above his head. The sound of charging men and beast shattered the quiet of the morning. The battle for the Underground had begun.

* * *

**Phew. One chapter closer to the end.**


End file.
